of the dames of days gone by, floated away in the
mazes of an unreal dance to the strains of imaginary melody.

But as the Baron listened, or affected to listen, to the gradually
increasing uproar in the stables of Berlifitzing--or perhaps pondered
upon some more novel, some more decided act of audacity--his eyes became
unwittingly rivetted to the figure of an enormous, and unnaturally
colored horse, represented in the tapestry as belonging to a Saracen
ancestor of the family of his rival. The horse itself, in the foreground
of the design, stood motionless and statue-like--while farther back, its
discomfited rider perished by the dagger of a Metzengerstein.

On Frederick's lip arose a fiendish expression, as he became aware of
the direction which his glance had, without his consciousness, assumed.
Yet he did not remove it. On the contrary, he could by no means account
for the overwhelming anxiety which appeared falling like a pall upon
his senses. It was with difficulty that he reconciled his dreamy and
incoherent feelings with the certainty of being awake. The longer he
gazed the more absorbing became the spell--the more impossible did it
appear that he could ever withdraw his glance from the fascination of
that tapestry. But the tumult without becoming suddenly more violent,
with a compulsory exertion he diverted his attention to the glare of
ruddy light thrown full by the flaming stables upon the windows of the
apartment.

The action, however, was but momentary, his gaze returned mechanically
to the wall. To his extreme horror and astonishment, the head of the
gigantic steed had, in the meantime, altered its position. The neck of
the animal, before arched, as if in compassion, over the prostrate body
of its lord, was now extended, at full length, in the direction of
the Baron. The eyes, before invisible, now wore an energetic and human
expression, while they gleamed with a fiery and unusual red; and the
distended lips of the apparently enraged horse left in full view his
gigantic and disgusting teeth.

Stupified with terror, the young nobleman tottered to the door. As he
threw it open, a flash of red light, streaming far into the chamber,
flung his shadow with a clear outline against the quivering tapestry,
and he shuddered to perceive that shadow--as he staggered awhile upon
the threshold--assuming the exact position, and precisely filling up
the contour, of the relentless and triumphant murderer of the Saracen