Wagner, the Wehr-Wolf

by George W. M. Reynolds

  At length jealousy took possession of him;—and suddenly stopping short in his progress toward the shore, he exclaimed aloud, “What if she should be wooed and won by another? If she return to her native land, as assuredly she now will, she may meet some handsome and elegant cavalier who will succeed in winning her passions:—and I—I, who love her so well—shall be forgotten! Oh! this is madness! To think that another may possess her, clasp her in his arms, press his lips to hers, feel her fragrant breath fan his cheek, play with the rich tresses of her beauteous hair, oh! no, no, the bare thought is enough to goad me to despair! She must not depart thus, we have separated, if not in anger at least abruptly, too abruptly, considering how we have loved, and that we have wedded each other in the sight of Heaven! Heaven!” repeated Wagner, his tone changing from despair to a deep solemnity; “heaven! Oh! I rejoice that I gave utterance to the word;—for it reminds me that to regain my Nisida I must lose heaven!”

  And, as if to fly from his own reflections, he rushed on toward the sea; and there he stopped to gaze, as oft before he had gazed, on the mighty expanse, seeming, in the liquid sunlight, as it stretched away from the yellow sand, a resplendent lake of molten silver bounded by a golden shore.

  “How like to the human countenance art thou, oh mighty sea!” thought Wagner, as he stood with folded arms on the brink of the eternal waters. “Now thou hast smiles as soft and dimples as beautiful as ever appeared in the face of innocence and youth, while the joyous sunlight is on thee. But if the dark clouds gather in the heaven above thee, thou straightway assumed a mournful and a gloomy aspect, and thou growest threatening and somber. And in how many varied voices dost thou speak. Oh, treacherous and changeful sea! Now thou whisperest softly as if thy ripples conveyed faint murmurs of love;—but, if the gale arise, thou canst burst forth into notes of laughter as thy waters leap to the shore with bounding mirth;—and, if the wind grow higher, thou canst speak louder and more menacingly; till, when the storm comes on, thou lashest thyself into a fury,—thou boilest with rage, and thy wrathful voice vies with the rush of the tempest and the roar of the thunder! Deceitful sea—imaging the beauties, thoughts, and passions of the earth! Within thy mighty depths, too, thou hast gems to deck the crowns of kings and the brows of loveliness; and yet thou cravest for more—more—and engulfest rich argosies with all their treasures—thou insatiate sea! And in thy dark caverns are the skeletons of the myriads of human beings whom thou hast swallowed up in thy fury; and whose bones are trophies which thou retainest in thy fathomless depths, as the heart of man enshrineth the relics of those hopes which have wasted away and perished!”

  Thus thought Wagner, as he stood gazing upon the sea, then so calm and beautiful, but which he knew to be so treacherous. When wearied of the reflections which that scene inspired, and not daring to allow his mind to dwell upon the image of Nisida, he repaired to the nearest grove and refreshed himself with the cooling fruits which he plucked. Then he extended his rambles amongst the verdant plains, and strove strenuously to divert his thoughts as much as possible from the one grand and mournful idea—the departure of Nisida from the island! But vainly did he endeavor to fix his attention upon the enchanting characteristics of that clime;—the flowers appeared to him less brilliant in hue than they were wont to be—the fruits were less inviting—the verdure was of a less lively green—and the plumage of the birds seemed to have lost the bright gloss that rendered its colors so gorgeous in the sunlight. For, oh! the powers of his vision were almost completely absorbed in his mind; and that mind was a mirror wherein was now reflected with a painful vividness all the incidents of the last few hours.

  But still he was sustained in his determination not to retrace his way to the spot where he had left Nisida; and when several hours had passed, and the sun was drawing near the western horizon, he exclaimed, in a moment of holy triumph, “She has doubtless by this time quitted the island, and I have been enabled to resist those anxious longings which prompted me to return and clasp her in my arms! O God! I thank thee that thou hast given me this strength!”

  Wagner now felt so overcome with weariness after his wanderings and roamings of so many hours, especially as the two preceding nights had been sleepless for him—that he sat down upon a piece of low rock near the shore. A quiet, dreamy repose insensibly stole over him: in a few minutes his slumber was profound. And now he beheld a strange vision. Gradually the darkness which appeared to surround him grew less intense; and a gauzy vapor that rose in the midst, at first of the palest bluish tint possible, by degrees obtained more consistency, when its nature began to undergo a sudden change, assuming the semblance of a luminous mist. Wagner’s heart seemed to flutter and leap in his breast, as if with a presentiment of coming joy; for the luminous mist became a glorious halo, surrounding the beauteous and holy form of a protecting angel, clad in white and shining garments, and with snowy wings drooping slowly from her shoulders! And ineffably—supernally benign and reassuring was the look which the angel bent upon the sleeping Wagner, as she said in the softest, most melodious tones, “The choir of the heavenly host has hymned thanks for thy salvation! After thou hadst resisted the temptations of the enemy of mankind when he spoke to thee with his own lips, an angel came to thee in a dream to give thee assurance that thou hadst already done much in atonement for the crime that endangered thy soul; but he warned thee then that much more remained to be done ere that atonement would be complete. And the rest is now accomplished; for thou hast resisted the temptations of the evil one when urged by the tongue and in the melodious voice of lovely woman! This was thy crowning triumph: and the day when thou shalt reap thy reward is near at hand; for the bonds which connect thee with the destiny of a Wehr-Wolf shall be broken, and thy name shall be inscribed in Heaven’s own Book of Life! And I will give thee a sign, that what thou seest and hearest now in thy slumber is no idle and delusive vision conjured up by a fevered brain. The sign shall be this: On awaking from thy sleep, retrace thy way to the spot where this morning thou didst separate from her whom thou lovest; and there shalt thou find a boat upon the sand. The boat will waft thee to Sicily; and there, in the town of Syracuse, thou must inquire for a man whose years have numbered one hundred and sixty-two; for that man it is who will teach thee how the spell which has made thee a Wehr-Wolf may be broken.”

  Scarcely had the angel finished speaking, when a dark form rose suddenly near that heavenly being; and Wagner had no difficulty in recognizing the demon. But the enemy of mankind appeared not armed with terrors of countenance, nor with the withering scorn of infernal triumph; for a moment his features denoted ineffable rage—and then that expression yielded to one of the profoundest melancholy, as if he were saying within himself, “There is salvation for repentant man, but none for me!” A cloud now seemed to sweep before Wagner’s eyes; denser and more dense it grew—first absorbing in its increasing obscurity the form of the demon, and then enveloping the radiant being who still continued to smile sweetly and benignly upon the sleeping mortal until the glorious countenance and the shining garments were no longer visible, but all was black darkness around. And Fernand Wagner continued to sleep profoundly.

  Many hours elapsed ere he woke; and his slumber was serene and soothing. At length when he opened his eyes and slowly raised his head from the hard pillow which a mass of rock had formed, he beheld the rich red streaks in the eastern horizon, heralding the advent of the sun; and as the various features of the island gradually developed themselves to his view, as if breaking slowly from a mist, he collected and rearranged in his mind all the details of the strange vision which he had seen. For a few minutes he was oppressed with a fear that his vision would indeed prove the delusive sport of his fevered brain; for there seemed to be in its component parts a wild admixture of the sublime and the fantastic. The solemn language of the angel appeared strangely diversified by the intimation that he would find a boat upon the shore, that this boat would convey him to a place where he was to inquire for a man whose age was one hun
dred and sixty-two years, and that this man was the being destined to save him from the doom of a Wehr-Wolf.

  Then, again, he thought that heaven worked out its designs by means often inscrutable to human comprehension: and he blamed himself for having doubted the truth of the vision. Feelings of joy therefore accompanied the reassurance of his soul; and, having poured forth his thanksgivings for the merciful intervention of Providence in his behalf, he tarried not even to break his fast with the fruits clustering at a short distance from him, but hastened to retrace his way across the mountains, no longer doubting to find the sign fulfilled and the boat upon the shore. And now these thoughts rose within him. Should he again behold Nisida? Was the fleet, which he had seen on the previous day, still off the island? Or had it departed, bearing Nisida away to another clime?

  He expected not to behold either the fleet or his loved one; for he felt convinced that the angel would not send him back within the influence of her temptations. Nor was he mistaken, for having traversed the volcanic range of heights, he beheld naught to break the uniform and monotonous aspect of the sunlit sea. But, on drawing nearer to the shore, he saw a dark spot almost immediately in front of the little hut which Nisida and himself had constructed, and wherein they had passed so many, many happy hours.

  He now advanced with a beating heart to the hut. The door was closed. Was it possible that Nisida might be within? Oh, how weak in purpose is the strongest minded of mortals. For an instant a pleasing hope filled Wagner’s breast; and then, again summoning all his resolutions to his aid, he opened the door, resolved, should she indeed be there, to remain proof against all the appeals she might make to induce him to sacrifice to their mundane prosperity his immortal soul. But the hut was empty. He lingered in it for a few moments; and the reminiscences of happy hours passed therein swept across his brain. Suddenly the note which Nisida had left for him met his eyes; and it would be representing him as something far more or else far less than human, were we to declare he did not experience a feeling of intense pleasure at beholding the memorial of her love. The tears flowed down his cheeks as he read the following lines:

  “The hour approaches, dearest Fernand, when, in all probability, I shall quit the island. But think not that this hope is unaccompanied by severe pangs. Oh, thou knowest that I love thee, and I will return to thee, my own adored Fernand, so soon as my presence shall be no longer needed at Florence. Yes, I will come back to thee, and we will not part until death shall deprive thee of me—for I must perish first, and while thou still remainest in all the glory of regenerated youth. Alas, thou hast fled from me this morning in anger—perhaps in disgust. But thou wilt forgive me, Fernand, if, yielding to some strange influence which I could not control, I urged an appeal so well calculated to strike terror into thy soul. Oh, that I could embrace thee ere I leave this isle; but alas! thou comest not back—thou hast fled to the mountains. It is, however, in the ardent hope of thy return to this spot, that I leave these few lines to assure thee of my undying affection, to pledge to thee my intention to hasten back to thine arms as soon as possible, and to implore thee not to nourish anger against thy devoted Nisida.”

  Wagner placed the letter to his lips, exclaiming, “Oh, wherefore did an evil influence ever prove its power on thee, thou loving, loved, and beauteous being. Why was thy hand raised against the hapless Agnes? wherefore did fate make thee a murderess—and why, oh, why didst thou assail me with prayers, tears, reproaches, menaces, to induce me to consign my soul to Satan? Nisida, may Heaven manifest its merciful goodness unto thee, even as that same benign care has been extended to me.”

  Fernand then placed the letter in his bosom, next to his heart, and dashing away the tears from his long lashes, began to turn his attention toward the preparation for his own departure from the island. As he approached the pile of stores, he beheld the light drapery which Nisida had lately worn, but which she had laid aside previous to leaving the island; and he also observed that the rich dress, which he had often seen her examine with care, was no longer there.

  “How beautiful she must have appeared in the garb!” he murmured to himself. “But, alas! she returns to the great world to resume her former character of the deaf and dumb.”

  Nisida and himself had often employed themselves in gathering quantities of those fruits which form an excellent aliment when dried in the sun; and there was a large supply of these comestibles now at his disposal. He accordingly transferred them to the boat; then he procured a quantity of fresh fruits; and lastly he filled with pure water a cask which had been saved by Nisida from the corsair-wreck. His preparations were speedily completed; and he was about to depart, when it struck him that he might never behold Nisida again, and that she might perform her promise of returning to the island sooner or later. He accordingly availed himself of the writing materials left amongst the stores, to pen a brief but affectionate note, couched in the following terms:

  “Dearest Nisida,—I have found, read, and wept over thy letter. Thou hast my sincerest forgiveness, because I love thee more than man ever before loved woman. Heaven has sent me the means of escape from this island—and the doom at which my regenerated existence was purchased, will shortly lose its spell. But perhaps my life may be surrendered up at the same time; at all events, everything is dark and mysterious in respect to means by which that spell is to be broken. Should we never meet again, but shouldst thou return hither and find this note, receive it as a proof of the unchanging affection of thy

  “Fernand.”

  The letter was placed in the hut, in precisely the same spot where the one written by Nisida had been left; and Wagner then hastened to the boat, which he had no difficulty in pushing away from the shore. Without being able to form any idea of the direction in which the island of Sicily lay, but trusting entirely to the aid of Heaven to guide him to the coast whither his destiny now required him to proceed, he hoisted the sail and abandoned the boat to the gentle breeze which swept the surface of the Mediterranean.

  *****

  The state-cabins—they might more properly be called spacious apartments—occupied by the Grand Vizier Ibrahim Pasha, on board the ship of the lord high admiral, were fitted up in a most sumptuous and luxurious manner. They consisted of two large saloons in a suit, and from each of which opened, on either side, a number of small cabins, tenanted by the officers immediately attached to the grand vizier’s person, and the page and slaves in attendance on him.

  The first of the two large saloons was lighted by a handsome conical skylight on the deck: the innermost had the advantage of the stern windows. The drapery—the curtains, the carpets, the sofas, and the hangings were all of the richest materials; the sides and ceilings of the cabin were beautifully painted and elaborately gilded, and the wood-work of the windows was incrusted with thin slabs of variously-colored marbles, on which were engraved the ciphers of the different lord high admirals who had hoisted their flags at any time on board that ship. For the state-apartments which we are describing properly belonged to the kapitan-pasha himself; but they had been surrendered to the grand vizier, as a mark of respect to the superior rank of this minister, during his stay on board.

  The little cabins communicating with the large saloons were in reality intended to accomodate the ladies of the kapitan-pasha’s harem; but Ibrahim did not turn them to a similar use, because it was contrary to Ottoman usage for the Princess Aischa, being the sultan’s sister, to accompany her husband on any expedition; and he had received so menacing a warning in the fate of Calanthe not to provoke the jealousy of Aischa or the vengeance of her mother, the Sultana Valida, that he had brought none of the ladies of his own harem with him. Indeed, since the violent death of Calanthe the harem had been maintained at Constantinople rather as an appendage of high rank than as a source of sensual enjoyment.

  Nisida of Riverola was treated with the utmost deference and attention by the Grand Vizier, Ibrahim Pasha; and on reaching the lord high admiral’s ship, she was instantly conducted to the i
nnermost saloon, which she was given to understand by signs would be exclusively appropriated to her own use. The slaves occupying the small cabins opening therefrom were removed to another part of the ship; and the key of the door connecting the two saloons was handed by the polite Ibrahim to the lady as a guaranty, or at least an apparent one, of the respect with which she should be treated and the security she might hope to enjoy.