been, from his boyhood, one of the boldest hunters of
bears and reindeer; later, in 1810, he had abandoned this profession, to
serve as guide to a Russian engineer, who was charged with an exploring
expedition to the Polar regions. He afterwards followed him to St.
Petersburg, and there, after some vicissitudes of fortune, Morok became
one of the imperial couriers--these iron automata, that the least
caprice of the despot hurls in a frail sledge through the immensity of
the empire, from Persia to the Frozen Sea. For these men, who travel
night and day, with the rapidity of lightning there are neither seasons
nor obstacles, fatigues nor danger; living projectiles, they must either
be broken to pieces, or reach the intended mark. One may conceive the
boldness, the vigor, and the resignation, of men accustomed to such a
life.

It is useless to relate here, by what series of singular circumstances
Morok was induced to exchange his rough pursuit for another profession,
and at last to enter, as catechumen, a religious house at Friburg;
after which, being duly and properly converted, he began his nomadic
excursions, with his menagerie of unknown origin.

Morok continued to walk up and down the loft. Night had come. The three
persons whose arrival he so impatiently expected had not yet made their
appearance. His walk became more and more nervous and irregular.

On a sudden he stopped abruptly; leaned his head towards the window; and
listened. His ear was quick as a savage's.

"They are here!" he exclaimed and his fox like eye shone with diabolic
joy. He had caught the sound of footsteps--a man's and a horse's.
Hastening to the window-shutter of the loft, he opened it cautiously,
and saw the two young girls on horseback, and the old soldier who served
them as a guide, enter the inn-yard together.

The night had set in, dark and cloudy; a high wind made the lights
flicker in the lanterns which were used to receive the new guests. But
the description given to Morok had been so exact, that it was impossible
to mistake them. Sure of his prey, he closed the window. Having remained
in meditation for another quarter of an hour--for the purpose, no doubt,
of thoroughly digesting his projects--he leaned over the aperture, from
which projected the ladder, and called, "Goliath!"

"Master!" replied a hoarse voice.

"Come up to me."

"Here I am--just come from the slaughter-house with the meat."

The steps of the ladder creaked as