assisting him in those malicious tricks. More particularly I was wont, in the way you now understand, to disfigure the heads of the unfortunate persons who suffered themselves to be allured hither, and who were afterwards turned out to be the mock and jeer of every fool who saw them. One day there came a pious man in monkish weeds, whom I thus served. It was he who pronounced the anathema which has ever since clung to me. ‘Accursed,’ said he, know that thou shalt wander within these walls until unasked, unbidden, a stranger shall retaliate upon thee what thou hast done to me.’
“From that moment I wasted slowly away, and died a mere shadow. My spirit departed from my withered carcass; but it remained here under the curse that had been breathed upon it. In vain I looked for my release, for I longed to be at rest. My sprite soon drove away all the inhabitants of the castle, and it remained desolate, for rarely would any one venture to pass the night here; and although I served every one who did venture, as I have served thee, I could never make them understand me, so as to induce them to serve me the same. Now, however, I shall go to my wished for repose, and shall be seen here no more!
“Were I the guardian of any concealed treasures, they should be yours. But listen to my advice. Remain here till your hair has grown again: then return to your native place, and tarry on the great bridge of the Weser at the time when day and night are equal, for a friend who will instruct you what you must do to retrieve your fortunes. Now adieu!”
With these words the ghost vanished.
Francis stood for a moment and was inclined to think he had been dreaming, but his bald head convinced him of the truth of all that had happened, and of the wonderful story he had heard. As, however, he had nothing more to fear, and was very tired still, he once more bolted his door, laid himself quietly down, and slept soundly till it was almost noon.
In the morning the roguish landlord waited impatiently for the arrival of the bald-headed traveller, that he might have a good laugh at him; but at last he became terribly alarmed, thinking the ghost had perhaps murdered instead of only shaving him. He called all his people together, therefore, went with them into the castle, and knocked loudly at the fastened door of the room in which Francis was still sleeping. The noise awoke him. He arose, and opened the door. As mine host perceived his smooth glossy head, he started back a few steps, clasped his hands, and exclaimed with well-feigned astonishment, “So, then! It is no fable what has been told of the spectre! Tell me, I pray, exactly how it happened.”
“Well, then,” answered Francis, “the ghost came and shaved my head in the way you see; and at his departure he gave me this bit of advice-never to trust a rascally innkeeper again. That fellow, said he, knew very well what would happen to you. Command him, however, in my name, to keep you in whatever you want, without any charge, till your hair has grown again. If he dare refuse I will haunt him every night, and play up such devilries in his house that in a very short time not a soul shall come near it. But to this castle I never mean to return.”
Mine host, who was horrified at this menace, promised every thing, took Francis back with him, and regaled him daily with the best he could furnish. When the owner of the castle, too, heard of this adventure, and learned that the ghost did not intend disturbing it in future, he was overjoyed, and ordered the landlord to pay every attention to the stranger.
Towards autumn Francis’s hair was grown again, and he made preparations to set out upon his journey homewards, for he longed to speak with his friend on the great bridge of the Weser. When he took leave of mine host, the latter presented him with a valuable horse, suitably caparisoned, and a good travelling purse, in the name of the nobleman whose castle he had delivered from the spectre. Thus provided, he had a pleasant journey enough, and arrived safely at Bremen a short time before the equinox. In order to remain secret at first, he took up his abode in an obscure part of the city, and went out only in the evening.
At length the much wished for period arrived. Before the morning dawned, he arose and hastened to the Weser bridge, where as yet there was not a
