The Toys of Peace and Other Stories
The Wolves Of Cernogratz
"Are they any old legends attached to the castle?" asked Conrad of his sister. Conrad was
a prosperous Hamburg merchant, but he was the one poetically-dispositioned member of
an eminently practical family.
The Baroness Gruebel shrugged her plump shoulders.
"There are always legends hanging about these old places. They are not difficult to invent
and they cost nothing. In this case there is a story that when any one dies in the castle all
the dogs in the village and the wild beasts in forest howl the night long. It would not be
pleasant to listen to, would it?"
"It would be weird and romantic," said the Hamburg merchant.
"Anyhow, it isn't true," said the Baroness complacently; "since we bought the place we
have had proof that nothing of the sort happens. When the old mother-in-law died last
springtime we all listened, but there was no howling. It is just a story that lends dignity to
the place without costing anything."
"The story is not as you have told it," said Amalie, the grey old governess. Every one
turned and looked at her in astonishment. She was wont to sit silent and prim and faded in
her place at table, never speaking unless some one spoke to her, and there were few who
troubled themselves to make conversation with her. To-day a sudden volubility had
descended on her; she continued to talk, rapidly and nervously, looking straight in front
of her and seeming to address no one in particular.
"It is not when any one dies in the castle that the howling is heard. It was when one of the
Cernogratz family died here that the wolves came from far and near and howled at the
edge of the forest just before the death hour. There were only a few couple of wolves that
had their lairs in this part of the forest, but at such a time the keepers say there would be
scores of them, gliding about in the shadows and howling in chorus, and the dogs of the
castle and the village and all the farms round would bay and howl in fear and anger at the
wolf chorus, and as the soul of the dying one left its body a tree would crash down in the
park. That is what happened when a Cernogratz died in his family castle. But for a
stranger dying here, of course no wolf would howl and no tree would fall. Oh, no."
There was a note of defiance, almost of contempt, in her voice as she said the last words.
The well-fed, much-too-well dressed Baroness stared angrily at the dowdy old woman
who had come forth from her usual and seemly position of effacement to speak so
"You seem to know quite a lot about the von Cernogratz legends, Fraulein Schmidt," she
said sharply; "I did not know that family histories were among the subjects you are
supposed to be proficient in."