Lambert of Fürstenberg was a hearty jovial knight, and had married
Wiltrud, a daughter of the Florsheim family. He was attached to his
gentle wife, who had just presented him with a son and heir. But an
evil genius entered the castle in the person of a noble maiden called
Luckharde. This maiden who had suddenly been left an orphan, belonged
to a family long befriended by the house of Fürstenberg. She was only
eighteen, but possessed a lascivious beauty, very dangerous to men.
The lady of the castle, who had been in delicate health since the
birth of her child, gave Luckharde a warm-hearted welcome into the
bosom of her family, trusting that the young woman would be of great
service to her in the management of her little realm, and would repay
her kindness by sisterly love and sympathy. Luckharde however was of a
vain and frivolous disposition, and had little love for household
affairs, or womanly duties.
As the months passed, Luckharde's ripening and dangerous beauty gained
gradually and almost imperceptibly more and more influence over the
susceptible heart of the lord of the castle, and soon the day came
when he yielded himself entirely to the charms of this beautiful
woman. Wiltrud's eyes were by no means blind to the shameful
ingratitude of the adulteress, and the godless conduct of her husband.
Her weakness however, prevented her from calling down the judgment of
heaven on the sinners. Luckharde, led on by her unbridled passion, now
formed a devilish design which would enable her to take the place of
the lawful wife of Lambert. One night she slipped into the chamber of
the lady of the castle, approached the bed of the sleeping woman with
a cat-like step, and smothered her with the pillows, the poor invalid
offering but a feeble and ineffective resistance.
Wiltrud's death was deeply mourned by the household, who believed that
she had died of a broken heart. Lambert too might be grieved, but in
the arms of his raven-locked enchantress he soon forgot his deceased
wife, and in a few weeks Luckharde was made lady of Fürstenberg. The
little boy whom Wiltrud had borne to her unfaithful husband was
hateful to the second wife, who fondled her lord, and flattered him
with the hope of the children she would bear him. Then it was arranged
that the knight's first-born should be handed over to the care of an
old crone who lived in a remote tower of the castle.
One night this old woman awoke suddenly, and was terrified to see a
female form dressed in a flowing white robe, bending over the cradle
of the little boy, who slept near. The woman seemed to be tending
the child, and after blessing him, she vanished. The old woman crossed
herself, and in terror muttered many prayers. In the early morning she
hurried to her new mistress in great agitation and with white lips
told her of her strange visitor. Luckharde at first laughed in her
usual frivolous manner at this ridiculous ghost story, but soon she
became more serious and alarmed. Then she ordered the old woman to
arrange her bed beside the other servants, but still to leave the
child in the tower-chamber. A dreadful fear had taken possession of
Luckharde's guilty soul. Perhaps people were deceived when they
believed Wiltrud to be dead, and it was thus that she returned at
night to nurse her child.
Then this daring and sinful woman prepared a bed for herself in the
lonely tower beside the child. She also brought with her a formidable
dagger, and thus she awaited what the night might bring forth. At
midnight the female figure dressed in the flowing white robe appeared
once more. It approached the cradle of the child, tended him and
blessed him. Then the terror-stricken Luckharde stared motionless at
the apparition as it rose and approached her bed. Towering there above
her were the pallid features of the dead Wiltrud, and the lifeless
entreating eyes looked steadily at this sinful woman who had taken the
place of her benefactress. To Luckharde it seemed as if a great
precipice was slowly bending over to overwhelm her. With a last mad
effort the wretched woman seized the dagger, and struck at the
apparition; but she might as well have struck at a misty cloud. Now
Luckharde perceived that she was in the presence of the murdered lady
of the Fürstenberg, and harrowed with the thought of her guilt she
seemed to hear a voice as if from another world saying, "Do penance
for thy sins."
Next morning Lambert waited in vain for his wife to appear. On looking
around however he noticed a piece of parchment. On it Luckharde had
confessed with deep sorrow, how she had murdered his first wife in
order to further her evil designs, and how the spirit of the dead had
appeared to her in the night, and warned her of her great guilt. She
was going to fly to a cloister to do penance during the remainder of
her days, and she recommended her sinful accomplice to do the same.
Lambert of Fürstenberg was deeply grieved on receiving this
revelation. He handed over his castle and child to a younger brother,
and spent the rest of this life as a solitary hermit.