e as terrible as her waking thoughts.
She was journeying in her coach to Stetten, the horses galloped
fast--ever faster!--Eberhard Ludwig was at her side, then, with a gesture
of anger, he flung himself out of the carriage. She was alone, and the
horses were rushing onwards. A giant figure, of pitiless face, stood in
their way--a being with huge, gnarled hands which held enormous
sickle-blades. The horses were mown down, now the blades were descending
over her. 'Great God! Mercy! he is cutting out my heart!' she awoke
screaming.

Then the strain of agonised thought began once more to whirl in her mind.
Eberhard Ludwig must come back--he must. She fell asleep, and again the
Dream Demon took hold of her. Now she was in Duke Christopher's Grotto in
Stuttgart. The mob was nearing her, and her feet always slipped back on
the slimy steps--she would never gain the first gallery. A shadowy figure
with bleeding hands barred her way--the White Lady--the murderess. 'Back
to the world to take your punishment!' the ghost whispered, and oh,
horror! she pushed her back with those terrible, bleeding hands--_back_,
down the slippery, slimy steps towards the crowd.

Eberhard Ludwig led the mob, and the Prussian King was with him. 'Beloved
of my life, heart of my soul!' the Duke said, and clasped her to him; but
his arms had become sickle-blades and they cut her to the heart, while
Friedrich Wilhelm laughed and waved a cudgel. It hit her on the brow,
blow after blow. 'Wanton, wanton, witch and wanton!' the King bawled at
each stroke. She was dreaming; she knew it, she must awake; but the Dream
Demon had not done with her. Now she was with Wuerben, now with Madame de
Ruth, now at Guestrow, now at Urach in the Golden Hall, but always the
glistening sickle-blades followed her. Wuerben cut at her with them;
Madame de Ruth, Monsieur Gabriel, every one had got these searing
blades, and always Eberhard Ludwig stood watching, watching, and he did
not save her!

In the grey dawn she awoke. It was all a dream, then. What was wrong,
though? There was something--ah, yes! Eberhard Ludwig had ceased to love
her. Absurd! It was a phantasy of her weary brain! She was ill,
feverish.--Eberhard was occupied with an exacting guest, that was all. He
would come back to her--he must. At last she slept dreamlessly. Fatigue
conquered agony, and she slept.

* * * * *

The Landhofmeisterin awoke to a smiling world. Such a glory o