A DANCE WITH THE DEAD.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XI, Issue 43, 28 October 1893, Page 343

A DANCE WITH THE DEAD.

WEIRD BAVARIAN STORY. Dr. Franz Hartmann tells the following story in Lucifer. He says that it was told to him by one of his friends, for whose reliability he is responsible : — In the year 1860 my parents and I. with my two sisters Beitha and Johanna, were living in a large and commodious bouse—a kind of chateau—on the top of a hill near the town of G , in Southern Bavaria. My elder sister, Bertha, was a sedate girl, not very attractive, but very kind hearted, while Johanna, the younger, was very beautiful, full of fun and merriment; especially she was passionately fond of dancing, and in her exuberance of spirits she often took hold of me and made me dance with her round the room, to my great vexation, because I never knew how to dance well, and would become giddy ; and then when I stumbled about trying to regain my equilibiinm she would laugh at my clumsiness until the tears ran down her cheeks —all of which, however, only amused me, tor she was my favourite sister and the pet of the family. Unfortunately during one cold winter night, and while attending a ball in a neighbouring town, Johanna contracted a severe cold, which developed rapidly into pulmonary consumption. At that time I was at the University at Munich, studying medicine. One morning, when I returned home at daybreak, after having spent, as I am now bound to confess, the whole night in singing and drinking with my comrades, I found a telegram upon my desk, informing me that if I wanted to see Johanna alive once more I must come home without a moment’s delay.

The despatch had arrived the previous evening, and there was no time to be lost; but. unfortunately, the fast train, the only one connecting with the stage at K . did not leave until 4 p m., so I had to restrain my impatience and wait, and I passed my time in cursing my folly for not having returned home sooner, in which case I could have taken the midnight train. Slowly as the hours passed, the torture of waiting at last came to an end, and we started, arriving at K at eight p.m., which was then the nearest point of the railway to G , and left me still three hours to travel by stage. What I suffered during that trip would be difficult to describe. Impatience and remorse, the desire to see my sister once more, the fear of being too late, together with the physical discomfort occasioned by cold and moisture, and the shaking, bumping, and bouncing of coach, rendered my position altogether unenviable. When we arrived at Git was nearly midnight. Hastily I walked on up the hill to Hannstein, and arrived at the old mansion. Impatiently I rang the bell at the door, and after a while our old deaf porter opened and stared at me with a vacant look. I did not stop to ask questions, but hurried upstairs to the great ball that led to my room, for the purpose of divesting myself of my great coat. I lighted the candle upon the table, then pulled off my coat, and as I turned round I faced my sister, Johanna,

standing before me, with a pleasant smile upon her lips. I now remember well that I was a little startled by seeing her dressed in white muslin, with a wreath of white roses upon her brow, while her long dark brown hair fell in ringlets over her shoulders ; but I was too much surprised at seeing her well and alive, and at such an unusual hour before me, to reflect upon the peculiarity of her dress. She looked somewhat pale, but the bright red spot upon her cheek bad departed, and her eyes seemed to me brighter than usual, although there was in them a somewhat dieamy expression. ‘ Why, Johanna !’ I exclaimed, grasping both her hands, ‘did you hear me come? How glad I am to see you so well ; I thought you were very sick.’ • 1 am perfectly well,’ answered my sister ; and, in fact, there w asnothing about her appearance or manner indicating anything to the co .trary unless, perhaps, that her voice seemed to have a peculiar sound, as if coming from afar ; but this I attributed to the condition of the large hall, in which every sound seemed to be echoed back from the vacant space. She was the same gay and beautiful girl I had known before I went to Munich ; there was about her beauty even something more ethereal than before ; which may have been due to the contrast which her dark tresses formed with her white apparel. ‘ I can hardly believe my eyes,’ I said, patting her caressingly upon the cheek ; • I expected to find you unable to move, and now you look as if you were ready to go toa ball ! ’ Johanna smiled, and as if desirous of proving to me that she could move, she swiftly turned several times round with graceful motions, and then taking hold of me made me waltz with her round the hall, just as she had done in former times, and without listening to my protest that I could not dance in my heavy boots. Her steps were inaudible, and she seemed to have no weight ; but my nailed boots made a great clatter that sounded dismally tbrough the hall. At last I became so giddy that I begged her to stop. I disengaged myself from her gra«p and stood still, and as the walls seemed to turn round me in swift motion, I held my hands over my eyes. When I opened my eyes again, Johanna had gone ; I was alone in the ball. Hastily I opened the door to run after her, and as I did so I found Sister Alfonsa in the gallery holding a lighted candle. Now Sister Alfonsa was well known to me, and I to her; she was a nun from a neighbouring convent, and used to wait upon the sick and hold vigils with the bodies of the dead. Small and emaciated she was, and herself near the grave ; nevertheless, she was a courageous little woman, and as she stood there with her black gown and white veil, holding the lighted candle in one hand and the rosary in the other, she showed no fear ; there was rather a look of defiance about her, which changed into astonishment as she recognised me. ‘ What is the matter, Sister Alfonsa ?’ I asked. ‘ Did you see Johanna ?’ ‘lt is for me to ask you, sir, what is the matter,’ she answered. 1 1 came to see what is the cause of this unearthly noise and trampling of feet over the chamber of the dead.’

• Who is dead ?’ I asked in surprise. ' Johanna was here and made me dance with her, to show me that she was well. Where is she ! Did you not meet her in the gallery ’’ The nun crossed herself and looked at me inquiiingly, as if to see whether I was drunk or insane. At last she said, ‘ The Lord have mercy ! Your sister Johanna died at six o'clock last evening. I have been sitting up with the corpse.'

I listened no longer, but hurried downstairs ; and true enough, in the room below the great hall, there was the body of Johanna laid out upon the bier, dressed in white muslin, with a wreath of white roses in her unloosened hair. The red spot was gone, her hands were folded as if in prayer, and a sweet peaceful smile rested upon her lips. My sister Bertha also made her api>earance, and confirmed the tale that Johanna had died at six p m , and added that the last wish which the dying girl had expressed was that she should see me once more.