who was reputed to be extremely expert in laying spirits. He no sooner came to this determination, than he sought the residence of his friend, who, after hearing his story, promised that he should be freed from such annoyances, if he would call on him on the following day. Frederick Wiemar did not fail to keep his appointment; and upon entering the room of the lieutenant he observed many magical preparations and characters marked on the floor, and immediately, at his invocation, the midnight spirit appeared in a dark room, lighted by the dull glimmer of a magic lamp. He spoke to the ghost, and appointed a willow tree, on a lonely glen, as the place of its abode. The figure vanished, but in the same instant a storm and whirlwind arose, but was dispelled by a procession of twelve pious men in the town, who rode on horseback, singing a penitential psalm, according to their usual custom.[1] After which the nun was never more seen.
When our lover found himself released from this distressing visitation, his spirits soon recovered their natural tone, and he again joined the army of Wallenstein, where he fought many successful campaigns, in which he distinguished himself so nobly, that on his return to Bohemia he was honoured with the command of a regiment. He took his journey through Nogtland, and when he came in sight of the Castle of Lauenstein his heart beat with doubt, whether his Emily had been faithful or not. He called as an old friend at the Castle, and received from Count Seigmund a reception suitable to his present rank. The agitation of Emily, when her apparently faithless Frederick stood before her, can better be imagined than described. But when she saw him looking as when last they parted, a mixture of joy and sorrow overwhelmed her. She could not resolve to receive him with cordiality, and yet the restraint which she imposed on her feelings was most painful. She had been reasoning herself for three years out of a passion, bestowed, as she tried to believe, on an unworthy object; but still she could never completely erase her lover from her thoughts. In this state of mind was the fair Emily when Frederick Wiemar again addressed her. She allowed him an opportunity of entering into an explanation; and narrated, in her turn, her suspicions and resentment. The joy and affection of the lovers redoubled upon these mutual disclosures. They agreed to extend their confidence a little further, and include the Countess in it.
The good lady was struck as much with the courage of her daughter in carrying on the intrigue, as in the circumstance of her elopement in so extraordinary a manner. She, however, thought it just, that an affection, which had experienced so severe a trial, should be rewarded by an union of the parties. And though this idea militated against the prospects which she had formed for her daughter; yet, since no prince or count was in view, she gave her consent to the match without much unwillingness, and neither bride nor bridegroom was ever again troubled by the ghostly nun.
N. N.
- ↑ This cavalcade continues even to this day in the above-mentioned place.
