tening, while the evening wore away. In spite of
his fear Simon became drowsy. The wind outside had risen, and was
rattling the shutters and roaring in the chimney, causing the fire to
brighten and burst into a feeble flame. Then a wonderful thing happened!
The great hall suddenly became ablaze with the light of hundreds of
candles. In wonder Simon raised his head and saw a stately procession of
men and women, fully fifty couples, arm-in-arm descending the stairs.
They wore beautiful clothing--not a bit like the people in the
village--but such as Simon had never seen before, except in pictures. He
who was apparently the host strode over to the fire and kicked the logs
into a blaze, while others gathered about it to warm their hands. Simon
thought the scene a grand sight, with their lace ruffles, knee-breeches,
wigs, and buckled shoes; and he was lost in admiration of the women,
with their powdered hair and white shoulders, their jewels, and their
bright eyes which shone so coquettishly above their fans. If these were
ghosts, he reflected, they were very gallant ones, and good to look at;
he was beginning to be glad he had come when the host suddenly clapped
his hands together, and looking his way, ordered the music to begin.
There seemed nothing out of the way in all this to Simon as he tucked
his fiddle beneath his chin, and drawing the bow across the strings,
commenced playing a waltz. Partners were chosen, and the dancing began.
Simon, as usual, went from one tune to another, but these people never
tired; all night long the dancing continued; and when Simon, weary and
thirsty, paused from habit to reach for the mug of ale which was not at
his elbow, the host glared at him so furiously that he went on playing
more frantically than ever. Faster and faster the mad phantoms danced,
swirling around and around the room; faster and faster he fiddled, till
his arm ached and his back felt broken; and just as the revel had
reached the highest pitch and the fiddle was squeaking its loudest, the
stairway against which he was leaning seemed to give way, and Simon fell
with a crash. Dazed and bruised from the fall, he sat up; the phantoms
had vanished, the lantern was out, and the fire had burned down and was
casting flickering shadows about the walls. In growing horror, Simon ran
screaming from the house, and down the road to the inn as fast as his
legs could carry him. He burst in upon them, his fiddle clutched tightly
in one hand