ster of Cologne, and lived at the sign of the Parroquet in
the New Marckt. In that year a fearful plague desolated all quarters
of the city. She fell sick of the pest, and, to all appearance, died.
After the usual period had elapsed she was buried in the vaults of the
Apostles' Church. She was buried, as the custom then was, with her
jewelled rings on her fingers, and most of her rich ornaments on her
person. These tempted the cupidity of the sexton of the church. He
argued with himself that they were no use to the corpse, and he
determined to possess them. Accordingly he proceeded in the dead of
night to the vault where she lay interred, and commenced the work of
sacrilegious spoliation. He first unscrewed the coffin lid. He then
removed it altogether, and proceeded to tear away the shroud which
interposed between him and his prey. But what was his horror to
perceive the corpse clasp her hands slowly together, then rise, and
finally sit erect in the coffin. He was rooted to the earth. The
corpse made as though it would step from its narrow bed, and the
sexton fled, shrieking, through the vaults. The corpse followed, its
long white shroud floating like a meteor in the dim light of the lamp,
which, in his haste, he had forgotten. It was not until he reached his
own door that he had sufficient courage to look behind him, and then,
when he perceived no trace of his pursuer, the excitement which had
sustained him so far subsided, and he sank senseless to the earth.

In the meantime Richmuth von Aducht, who had slept scarcely a moment
since the death of his dear wife, was surprised by the voice of his
old manservant, who rapped loudly at his chamber door, and told him to
awake and come forth, for his mistress had arisen from the dead, and
was then at the gate of the courtyard.

"Bah!" said he, rather pettishly, "go thy ways, Hans; you dream, or
are mad, or drunk. What you see is quite impossible. I should as soon
believe my old grey mare had got into the garret as that my wife was
at the courtyard gate."

Trot, trot, trot, trot, suddenly resounded high over his head.

"What's that?" asked he of his servant.

"I know not," replied the man, "an' it be not your old grey mare in
the garret."

They descended in haste to the courtyard, and looked up to the window
of the attic. Lo and behold! there was indeed the grey mare with her
head poked out of the window, gazing down with her great eyes on her
master and his man, and s