Many years ago there lived in the little town of Stolberg, which is the centre of a mining district in the Hartz Mountains, a certain Joseph Kerst, who was the overseer of one of the neighbouring mines. He had begun work there as a boy, and had no thought or care but for the treasures that were to be found in those dusky depths, so that he had come, early in life, to enjoy a position of trust, and a certain degree of wealth. This, however, was not enough to satisfy him; his great ambition was to discover a fresh vein of silver, that should be his alone, and make him the richest of men; and to this end he would wander night and day about the mountains, and through the disused pits, pick in hand, seeking for a spot that seemed to promise what he desired.

Now, with the wealth which was his already, he might easily have kept a wife, and, indeed, many a girl in the town was on the look-out for overseer Joseph, and would gladly have become the mistress of the comfortable old house on the market-place. At last he did seem to have made his choice, and a good choice too; for he often spent his spare hours with the watchmaker’s daughter Anna, who was the sweetest, gentlest girl in the world, and plainly did not want him for his money, for it was easy to see she worshipped the ground he trod on. If the truth were known, she often wept in secret over his craze for silver, and his dangerous midnight excursions into the heart of the mountains; but the poor, loving creature fancied that when once he had “given her the ring,” which he promised soon to do, she could persuade him to turn his mind to other things.

Meanwhile, however, he did not give up his search, and this is what befell him at last:—It was a moonlight night; he had turned his steps towards one of the disused tunnels of the Auerberg, and was going to enter it, when he saw that the inside of the tunnel itself was flooded with light, as though the moonbeams had found their way in there also. Yet he presently perceived that this was no ray of the moon, for the shaft of light streamed forth from within, even from the very heart of the cavern, and as he gazed, a sound of far-off music struck upon his ear. Now all miners know that there are spirits in the mountain, who draw the precious metal down to the depths of the earth, or suffer it to rise nearer to the surface, according to their pleasure; and Joseph guessed at once that here might be the clue he was seeking. So, spurred on by the thought that he was perhaps near the realisation of his dearest hope, he stepped with a beating heart into the cavern and along the shining pathway of light. Brighter and brighter it grew; louder and sweeter, too, the music swelled forth, till his eyes were dazzled, and his heart throbbed with so exquisite a pleasure that he could hardly draw breath. And now misty forms, as of men and maidens dancing, began to whirl before his eyes upon the golden floor; and then, as these disappeared, he was aware of one radiant figure, clad in snowy, shimmering garments, who stood alone against the dark rock and beckoned to him. As he went nearer he saw that the form was that of a maiden. Her long, dusky tresses fell round a pale, delicate face, in which the large eyes shone out like lamps; her raiment was woven all of silver threads, and in one hand she held a slender silver staff, shaped like a long nail.

Presently she began to speak, and her voice was as sweet as the music which had heralded her coming. “Have no fear, good mortal,” the gentle voice said. “I have watched many a day for thy coming, for I knew thou wert bold, and wouldst venture much, and I need such a one to release me from my prison. Thou art seeking for precious ore. Know, then, that the silver nail I hold can guide thee to the spot where lies the richest vein in all these mountains. But there is a price to pay.” As she spoke these words a smile dawned upon her face. But Joseph had no ears save for the welcome news of the vein of ore; he forgot all his alarm and doubt, and springing forward, cried: “Beautiful spirit, there is no price I would not pay for such knowledge!”

“Art thou sure, Joseph? For this is the price—even that thou shalt wed me, and promise that thou wilt not ever, in the time to come, cast it in my teeth that I am a being of the under-world, and that thou hast been my releaser. Only thus can I be freed; for I seek for love, yea, as thou seekest for wealth; and if there be one in the town yonder who hath already taken thy love, why then the price is not thine to pay, and I warn thee to pause and consider ere thou promise it.”

Joseph felt a chill creep round his heart. He thought of Anna, but her image seemed to grow pale beside the one before him. Yet—a spirit dwelling in the old house on the market-place! How might this be?

The fairy maiden saw his hesitation, and her smile died away. “Nay, not now,” she cried as he opened his lips to answer, “not yet must thou reply, for thy fate and mine will be dark if thou dost promise what thou canst not fulfil. To-morrow night, when the moon is full, come again to the mountain, and let thy heart be honest and thy purpose firm, to answer according to truth.” As she spoke the light vanished, and Joseph stood once more alone at the cavern’s mouth. The moon was setting, and its beams were scarcely bright enough to guide him homeward again, but he stumbled on, unheeding, his mind in a whirl of perplexity and doubt. When he reached his own door, and creeping in, sat down by the warm stove, he could scarcely have told whether he had not been sitting there all night, or whether his adventure had been anything but a dream. Yet nay—he had surely set forth to the Auerberg that evening, and in such haste that his half-finished supper still stood there upon the table. Suppose it were true, and he within an ace of being the richest man in the land? There was Anna—but did he really love Anna? Had he promised her anything? He thought not; all his intercourse with her seemed misty and far off now. Thus through the night and day he struggled with one thought and another, his mind in a whirl. His work was neglected, and even his underlings laughed, unreproved, at his distraught and wandering looks. By evening he had reached a condition in which he could not have sworn to the truth of anything. Probably what he had seen the night before was all fancy; but he must prove it to himself, for if it were true, what vague and foolish lovers’ talk was there in the world worth giving up such a chance for?

Midnight and the full moon saw him standing again at the entrance of the cavern, his mouth dry and his heart beating with anxiety. He waited long. Despair, and a secret rage at his own credulous folly, were beginning to seize hold on him, when his straining eyes caught sight of a faint glimmer spreading through the dark. He hurried forward, and with each step the light grew brighter and brighter, till it led him at last to the rock where he had seen the maiden the night before. But she was not there; the only thing that met his eyes was an iron door, let into the rock on the spot where she had leant. He thrust against it with all his might, and straightway there rang out a strain of the sweetest music, such as he had heard before. And with the sound of the music, these words were borne to his ear: “If thou truly and with a loving heart seekest Eruna, call and she will answer.”

“Eruna!” repeated Joseph with trembling voice; “Eruna!”

At the second call the door flew open beneath his hand, and discovered a rock-hewn chamber, radiant with light that streamed from its walls, and at the farther end of it, just as he had seen her before, stood the magic maiden he had learnt to call Eruna. A golden table stood beside her, and upon it were a book, and a golden candlestick holding a burning taper, and the candlestick was in the shape of a tall lily, with buds and blossoms of gold. But in front of the table, on either side, crouched two strange, terrible creatures with flaming eyes, and their form was like that of a lion.

“Come to me without fear, Joseph,” cried Eruna as she saw him start back; “these beasts are my faithful guardians, but they will not touch one who comes without fear.” As she spoke she raised the silver nail in her hand, and a feeling of triumph swept over the heart of the man. It was true, then; this beautiful being and her promises were no dream, and he had reached his goal! He sprang forward, all fear driven out by his eager hopes, and the beasts crouched lower, as he passed them and fell at the feet of the radiant Eruna. Ah, lions with the flaming eyes! why was your sight darkened then, and why did no kindly instinct tell you that daring is not born of love alone?

“Joseph,” said the gentle voice again, “art thou truly come to set me free and take me for thy wife? And dost thou make the promise I asked of thee? Then raise thy hand and pluck this golden flower from its stem.” He obeyed, scarcely knowing what he did; and lo! as he broke the lily from the stalk, again the sound of music rang forth and echoed through the vaulted chamber. And at the plucking of the lily, the taper was extinguished, and with it all the light in the room. Darkness enveloped them, and he felt Eruna grasp his hand. He dropped the golden blossom, and would have fled, dragging her with him, for now the music had changed to a discord of horrid sounds, and he could hear the wild beasts moving towards them. But Eruna stopped him for a moment. “Wilt thou leave this behind thee,” said she—“the token of our love?” And raising the golden blossom from where it had fallen at her feet, she laid it in his hand. “Now, indeed, fly,” she hurriedly added, “or the door will close!” And, in truth, they had scarcely reached it, she guiding him with unerring steps, when the door clanged behind them—even striking Joseph upon the heel as he fled—and the clamour within rose to a hideous pitch. “I have angered my people, the spirits of the mountain,” murmured Eruna; “then do not thou, O love, ever forsake me!”

Joseph shivered; an iron hand seemed to clasp his heart, but he replied, with the best grace he could muster: “I have sworn to love thee, Eruna, if thou hast indeed a mind to come down into our life, and bear our burdens; but, that we may be happy, and that I may give thee all it befits thee to have, wilt not thou, too, keep thy word and show me that which I was seeking when I first saw thee?”

He felt Eruna’s hand tremble in his. “So be it, foolish man,” she said. “I was nearly forgetting the store thou dost set by the dross that fills this mountain, and the sight of which wearies me. Come hither, then, and where I strike in my silver nail, do thou smite with thy pick, and leave it hanging there. To-morrow thou shalt find what thou seekest.” As she spoke she paused at a certain point of the rocky wall beside them, and raised her silver nail on high. Immediately a pale light shone round about them, and lit up the side of the cavern. Choosing a spot, she thrust in the point of the silver nail, and it sank into the rock, leaving scarcely a trace behind. But into the track it left Joseph eagerly drove his pick, and rolling up a large stone further to mark the spot, he turned to leave the cavern with Eruna.

All night long such a storm raged among the mountains that their rocky peaks seemed to reel beneath the echoing thunder-claps. Joseph never knew how he got home that night, or whose hand it was that tended him as he lay, smitten half senseless by the violence of the storm, upon his cold hearth-stone.

In the morning curious neighbours, and workmen from the mines, came pressing in to see if he were at home, and to inquire why he had been absent so long, and then he knew, for the first time, that a whole week had elapsed since his departure from home on a certain moonlight night. But this was no longer, any more than the rest, a surprise to Joseph; indeed, he rather welcomed the discovery, for how could he else have accounted for the sudden appearance in his house of the beautiful, pale woman with dusky tresses, who moved about with timid, uncertain footsteps, as though the place and its ways were strange to her? He was relieved to see her silvery raiment had disappeared. But she wore a garb somewhat different from the dress of the women of the district, and a happy thought struck him.

“Ha! ha!” he laughed, “I have stolen a march upon you all! Ye have often told me I needed a wife, and here I have one, but she comes from afar, from the other side of the mountains. I became acquainted with her last year, when I went to see my kinsfolk yonder, and I have had it in mind to wed her ever since; but I will have no gossips plaguing me about such matters, so I even went to fetch her home by myself, without any ado.”

The neighbours looked at one another, and those on the outskirts of the crowd slipped off to tell the news, with much added detail, to Anna, who was too sick to leave her bed. For the poor child had fretted herself into a fever over the supposed death of Joseph during one of his lonely rambles among the mountains.

“Why, then,” cried one of the miners in the crowd, “we have taken a deal of trouble, master, for naught; we have been seeking thee at the foot of every precipice in the country for days past.”

“Plague take ye for meddlesome fellows!” cried Joseph. “Cannot such a man as I go away for a holiday but it must raise the whole country-side? I’ll warrant you’ve been making it an excuse to do scant work; but wait a while, I shall have work enough for ye all soon—ay, and for many more!”

He would have driven them forth and hurried away to explore the fateful spot where he had left his pick hanging, but that a cry of wonder arose from a woman who had ventured close up to the spot where Eruna was standing—the spot where Joseph had lain through the night. She had picked up from the ground a tall branch of lilies, bud and blossom, all fashioned in pure gold, so cunningly that no such goldsmith’s work had ever been seen; and the weight of the branch was so great that she could scarcely lift it. Exclamations and questions rose on every side, and every one crowded round the holder of this wonderful treasure.

“That is my wife’s dowry,” explained Joseph, a little taken aback by the discovery of this prize, which he had forgotten for the moment, but proud enough of it withal. “There is naught like it, I’ll be bound, in all the length and breadth of Germany!”

The people stared open-mouthed, and the men were disposed to envy Joseph both bride and dowry, but many of the women, though they could not disguise their wonder and admiration over the golden blossom, began to cast suspicious glances at Eruna. Joseph was soon aware of them, and they only increased the uncanny feeling of deception and mystery which was to become but too familiar to him. For the moment, however, he smothered it in anger; and declaring that he would have no more gaping fools in his house, disturbing his honeymoon, he drove the neighbours forth, only to send them carrying the news of his wondrous marriage far and wide over the country.

As soon as they were gone, he too rushed out to the mountain, and presently found the spot marked by his pick. A few hours’ work convinced him that Eruna’s promise had not been false, and that here was a vein of silver whose richness surpassed his wildest dreams. And now for a time, indeed, Joseph reaped his reward. The country-side rang with tales of his strange marriage, and of his still more wonderful discovery of silver. Miners came from all sides, and found employment at the new works, for a shaft was being sunk, and the vein seemed inexhaustible. Joseph refused to give any particulars as to how he had made his discovery; he only insisted on calling the shaft “The Silver Nail,” a name which caused fresh wonderment among the townspeople. He was fast becoming a rich man, and the tale of his good-luck, and of the wondrous golden lily he owned, spread through the land, till it reached the ears of the King himself, who expressed a wish to behold the treasure that had fallen into the keeping of a working-man. So Joseph had to travel to court and show his golden lily—for he had almost forgotten that it belonged as much to Eruna as to himself, and had only been entrusted to him as a guerdon of their love. At court he was forced to baffle as best he could the inquiries that were made as to how he had come by this marvellous piece of work. It was an heirloom, he said; none knew how it had come into his family, and for years it had been hidden in the earth, lest thieves should get at it. Some one whispered to the bewildered man that he must offer it to His Majesty, since all treasure-trove rightly belonged to him. This had certainly not been part of Joseph’s plan, but the King and his courtiers overawed him, and he stammered forth his willingness to lay the offering at His Majesty’s feet.

“In sooth,” the King replied, “this is too rich a treasure for me to purchase it, or to think of taking it as a gift either, from this good fellow; yet I were proud to possess it, and it is, indeed, only fit for a king’s treasury. Now I have found a way. Leave me thy flower, Joseph Kerst, and take instead the barony of Stolberg, for thou hast enriched thy native town, and hast paid due homage to thy King, and art worthy to be reckoned amid the nobles of the land.”

So Joseph went forth a great man, and thought to return home and bring joy to his bride, Eruna, for whom he cherished a kind of awe-struck admiration, as the being who had brought him all his luck. But take her honestly to his heart, as a simple woman, and love her as he might have loved his faithful Anna, whom he had known from childhood, that he felt he could never do. He was dismayed, however, on his return home, to find a different reception from that which he expected. The townspeople, indeed, received him with acclamations, as their new baron, but Eruna’s eyes wore a sadder, more wistful look than usual.

“Thou hast parted with our lily, our marriage token!” she moaned. “Woe be to us, Joseph! what are lands and names beside the guarding of our love? Oh, blind of heart! hadst thou no care for the token that bound us together, or even for the treasures which my love alone can bring for thee from the depths of the earth? Take heed to thy tongue, then, for if love guard it not, it may easily speak the fatal word.”

Joseph would have replied angrily, but the close of her speech reminded him of the promise he had solemnly made on that night, which now seemed so far away, and he choked back his wrath. But from that day things went crookedly. He spent his money right and left, so that it was gone almost as soon as it came from the mines. That was of no consequence, indeed, since there seemed to be no end to “The Silver Nail” vein; but the riches soon ceased to bring him all the pleasure he had expected. He was ill at ease in his lordly castle, and heavy at heart when he went down into the town and saw how his old acquaintances shunned him, partly from awkwardness at feeling him now so much higher placed than themselves, and partly on account of the suspicions and rumours that were whispered about concerning his mysterious wife, who could never learn the ways of the other women, or talk like one having interests akin to theirs. Only Anna, who had so just a cause of offence against him, yet treated him as she had done of old; and when the poor child arose from the long illness which fell upon her at the sudden news of his marriage, her gentle, forgiving spirit gave him shelter as a friend, who now could never be a lover. In talk with her he learnt more and more to see how great a gift he had bartered away for his heaps of hard coin, and his lordly, unhome-like home. Yet Anna was often sick, and could not speak cheerfully even to him, and her father and the neighbours looked coldly upon his comings and goings.... And up yonder, at the castle, the pale face framed in dusky tresses gazed forth with despairing eyes as he turned his steps to the watchmaker’s house.

At last there came a day when Joseph too looked sadly down from the hill, watching a funeral train that wound its way along the valley; a train he might not join, for the people whispered, loud enough for him to hear, that Anna’s death lay at his door, and that he could do no less than let her go to her grave in peace. So he watched her go with remorse in his heart, and as he watched there was that in his face that no one could mistake. Eruna read it, and the fount of misery that had been gathering in her breast broke forth, for the first time, in uncontrollable wailings.

“Her, her thou hast loved, Joseph!” she cried, “and hast been false both to her and me! Ah, woe is me that I could not read one mortal’s heart aright!”

Now the pent-up wrath and pain in Joseph’s heart were more than he could bear. No remembrance of his covetous longings or of his false-hearted dealings withheld him, and he turned upon her, crying—

“And if it were so, what is that to thee? For what did I barter my happiness but to release thee and give thee mortal life, thou soulless clod of earth!”

Even as he spoke Eruna glided close, and threw her arms about him, trying to stay his speech. But it was too late, the words were out, and as her cold white hand touched his lips, he felt a deadly chill at his heart, and fell senseless to the ground.

A clamour of voices, and the sound of hurrying footsteps, brought him to himself, as the workmen from his mines crowded into the hall.

“Woe be upon us all, master!” they cried, “where is thy lady? She is not to be found in the castle, and but an hour ago, as we were leaving our work to go homewards, we saw a white figure, that wore her face, though not her garb, glide past us and reach the mouth of the ‘Silver Nail’ shaft. And we followed after in fear; but as we approached, before any one could reach it, the white figure cast itself down the shaft. Then we were affrighted indeed, and the foremost of us went down, fearing to find a shattered form at the bottom, but there was no one—no, not a sign, though we searched with care. But strange sounds rang through the mountain, master. And we came up again, and hither in haste, to see if perchance she were dead and we had seen her wraith—but nowhere in the castle halls or woods can she be found.”

Nor, indeed, was Eruna ever found again; and, what is more, from the day that the white woman leaped down the shaft, no more ore was found in the “Silver Nail” mine, and though it still bears that name, no silver has again been found there to this day. But Joseph wandered away, distraught with grief, into the mountains; nor could any one prevail upon him to return again to the castle, but he continued to wander, seeking for his vein of lost silver, till he met his death by a fall from one of the mountain precipices, leaving behind him, as the only tokens of the riches so dearly bought, a ruined castle, and the forsaken shaft of the “Silver Nail.”