A NIGHTMARE.

HOW cold it was, and how bright the moon shone on the snow, as we left the village together! He smiled and joked, and the moonlight sparkled on the silver plates of his dagger-sheath, and the crisp diamonds crackled under our feet as we walked along. Now the village lights were sunk in the distance, and the black shadows of the Ardennes stretched out ghostly arms to meet us, to receive us in their gloomy embrace. Did he not remember the blow, did he not remember Madelon? He shivered as a long howl rang like music in my ears, and murmured to himself that a cross-bow would not have been amiss; but still the wolves would seldom attack two, and if they did, a serf more or less made little difference, and while they were busy with me he could escape. But the change was coming, I felt it burning within me; and he started as he looked at my eyes, which I felt were slowly gaining the fiendish, yellowy glare. Pale, paler than the snow beneath our feet he grew as he saw the bristly gray hide shoo : over my doublet and hose, while my belt, unclasped and clothed with a bushy gray hair, fell down behind. "Sainte Vierge" he cried, his eyeballs starting from his head, as he tried to flee. "Madelon," I snarled, as I leapt after him, "Madelo-o-o-o-o-n;" and my gay gray comrades answered from the forest, "O-o-o-o-n," as they sprang out from the dark shadows; he tried to draw his knife, but my sharp teeth met in his arm. Hark! A short yelping bark, a snapping of bright teeth, and a grinding sound, and there is nothing but a dark red stain on the fair white snow. Hu-u-u-u! how we sped along under the bright, cruel stars, to the merry, long-drawn notes, while the poor frightened peasant put another bar on his flimsy door and shiveringly murmured, "Les loups-garous."

Who says I killed him? Nobody saw it; the very moon was behind a cloud, and we flew, flew, flew over the prairie. He was alone with me in the engine cab, and taunted me again with that devilish leering sneer; and then there was a dull blow, and I threw open the throttle valve and crept, with it in my arms, through the narrow window, and dropped it under the driving-wheel. Then away we went, and the heavy train leaped and jumped from side to side as we shot through the darkness. How white their faces looked at the car window, and how they screamed! I howled at them for very joy, and I felt the engine leap forward under me; they had cast off the train, and away we flew, the engine and I. Now the stations flew by, bright as live coals in a black, burnt desert, and the men shrank back as I flew away. There were lights ahead, a passenger train, hurrah! death is close after them; the train goes fast, but I fly like the wind. See, there is a station, they will have a rare show. But the engine staggers and stops, the wheels shoot fire from the track; they flash lights in my eyes and drag me howling from the cab; and see, tangled in the driving-wheel is the thing that stopped my glorious race, - a human arm!