my stepmother was implicated in both their deaths, although I could not account for the manner; but I no longer felt afraid of her: my little heart was full of hatred and revenge.
The night after my sister had been buried, as I lay awake, I perceived my stepmother get up and go out of the cottage. I waited for some time, then dressed myself, and looked out through the door, which I half opened. The moon shone bright, and I could see the spot where my brother and my sister had been buried; and what was my horror, when I perceived my stepmother busily removing the stones from Marcella's grave.
She was in her white night-dress, and the moon shone full upon her. She was digging with her hands, and throwing away the stones behind her with all the ferocity of a wild beast. It was some time before I could collect my senses and decide what to do. At last, I perceived that she had arrived at the body, and raised it up to the side of the grave. I could bear it no longer; I ran to my father and awoke him.
"Father! father!" cried I; "dress, yourself, and get your gun."
"What!" cried my father; "the wolves are there, are they?"
He jumped out of bed, threw on his clothes, and in his anxiety did not appear to perceive the absence of his wife. As soon as he was ready, I opened the door, he went out, and I followed him.
Imagine his horror, when (unprepared as he was for such a sight) he beheld, as he advanced toward the grave, not a wolf, but his wife, in her night-dress, on her hands and knees, crouching by the body of my sister, and tearing off large pieces of the flesh, and devouring them with all the avidity of a wolf. She was too busy to be aware of our approach. My father dropped his gun, his hair stood on end; so did mine; he breathed heavily, and then his breath for a time stopped. I picked up the gun and put it into his hand. Suddenly he appeared as if concentrated rage had restored him to double vigor; he leveled his piece, fired, and with a loud shriek, down fell the wretch whom he had fostered in his bosom.
"God of heaven!" cried my father, sinking down upon the earth in a swoon, as soon as ho had discharged his gun.
I remained some time by his side before he recovered. "Where am I?" said he. "What has happened?—Oh! yes, yes! I recollect now. Heaven forgive me!"
He rose and we walked up to the grave; what again was our astonishment and horror to find that instead of the dead body of my stepmother, as we expected, there was lying over the remains of my poor sister, a large, white she-wolf.
"The white wolf!" exclaimed my father; "the white wolf which decoyed me into the forest—I see it all now—I have dealt with the spirits of the Hartz Mountains."
For some time my father remained in silence and deep thought. He then carefully lifted up the body of my sister, replaced it in the grave, and covered it over as before, having struck the head of the dead animal with the heel of his boot, and raving like a madman. He walked back to the cottage, shut the door, and threw himself on the bed; I did the same, for I was in a stupor of amazement.
Early in the morning we were both aroused by a loud knocking at the door, and in rushed the hunter Wilfred.
"My daughter!—man—my daughter!—where is my daughter?" cried he in a rage.
"Where the wretch, the fiend, should be, I trust," replied my father, starting up and displaying equal choler; "where she should be—in
