Well, the Electress!
she was--you must guess. So she called for her caudle at eleven o'clock
at night. What do you think that was? Well, there was spirit in it: not
to say nutmeg, and lemon, and peach kernels. She wanted me to sit with
her, but I begged my mistress to keep me from the naughty woman: and no
friend of Hilda of Bayern was Bertha of Bohmen, you may be sure. Oh!
the things she talked while she was drinking her caudle.
Isentrude sat with her,'and said it was fearful!--beyond blasphemy! and
that she looked like a Bible witch, sitting up drinking and swearing and
glaring in her nightclothes and nightcap. She was on a journey into
Hungary, and claimed the hospitality of the castle on her way there.
Both were widows. Well, it was a quarter to twelve. The Electress
dropped back on her pillow, as she always did when she had finished the
candle. Isentrude covered her over, heaped up logs on the fire, wrapped
her dressing-gown about her, and prepared to sleep. It was Winter, and
the wind howled at the doors, and rattled the windows, and shook the
arras--Lord help us! Outside was all snow, and nothing but forest; as
you saw when you came to me there, Gretelchen. Twelve struck. Isentrude
was dozing; but she says that after the last stroke she woke with cold.
A foggy chill hung in the room. She looked at the Electress, who had not
moved.
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