he distance.

"What is disturbing the animals?" asked the Baron.

And then the humans, listening intently, heard the sound that had roused
the dogs to their demonstrations of fear and rage; heard a long-drawn
whining howl, rising and falling, seeming at one moment leagues away, at
others sweeping across the snow until it appeared to come from the foot
of the castle walls. All the starved, cold misery of a frozen world, all
the relentless hunger-fury of the wild, blended with other forlorn and
haunting melodies to which one could give no name, seemed concentrated in
that wailing cry.

"Wolves!" cried the Baron.

Their music broke forth in one raging burst, seeming to come from
everywhere.

"Hundreds of wolves," said the Hamburg merchant, who was a man of strong
imagination.

Moved by some impulse which she could not have explained, the Baroness
left her guests and made her way to the narrow, cheerless room where the
old governess lay watching the hours of the drying year slip by. In
spite of the biting cold of the winter night, the window stood open. With
a scandalised exclamation on her lips, the Baroness rushed forward to
close it.

"Leave it open," said the old woman in a voice that for all its weakness
carried an air of command such as the Baroness had never heard before
from her lips.

"But you will die of cold!" she expostulated.

"I am dying in any case," said the voice, "and I want to hear their
music. They have come from far and wide to sing the death-music of my
family. It is beautiful that they have come; I am the last von
Cernogratz that will die in our old castle, and they have come to sing to
me. Hark, how loud they are calling!"

The cry of the wolves rose on the still winter air and floated round the
castle walls in long-drawn piercing wails; the old woman lay back on her
couch with a look of long-delayed happiness on her face.

"Go away," she said to the Baroness; "I am not lonely any more. I am one
of a great old family . . . "

"I think she is dying," said the Baroness when she had rejoined her
guests; "I suppose we must send for a doctor. And that terrible howling!
Not for much money would I have such death-music."

"That music is not to be bought for any amount of money," said Conrad.

"Hark! What is that other sound?" asked the Baron, as a noise of
splitting and crashing was heard.

It was a tree falling in the park.

There was a moment of constrained silence, and then