On the ensuing morning Wagner stood before the judge of the Criminal Tribunal of the Republic.

The judgment hall was a large and lofty room in the Palazzo del Podesta, or ducal palace. The judges sat in antique and richly carved chairs, placed on a platform, beneath a canopy of purple velvet fringed with gold.

On the left, at a handsome desk covered with papers, was seated the procurator fiscal or attorney-general of the republic, distinguished in attire from the judges only by the fact of the ermine upon his scarlet robe being narrower than theirs. Opposite to this functionary was a bench whereon the witnesses were placed. The prisoner stood between two sbirri in a small pew, in the center of the court. Defendants in civil cases were alone permitted in that age and country to retain counsel in their behalf; persons accused of crimes were debarred this privilege. Wagner was therefore undefended.

The proceedings of the tribunal were usually conducted privately; but about a dozen gentlemen and twice as many ladies had obtained orders of admission on this occasion, the case having produced considerable sensation in Florence, on account of the reputed wealth of the accused. Perhaps, also, the rumor that he was a young man endowed with extraordinary personal attractions, had exercised its influence upon the susceptible hearts of the Florentine ladies. Certain it is, that when he was conducted into the judgment hall, his strikingly handsome exterior—his air of modest confidence—his graceful gait, and his youthful appearance, so far threw into the back-ground the crime imputed to him, that the ladies present felt their sympathies deeply enlisted in his behalf.

The usher of the tribunal having commanded silence in a loud voice, the chief judge began the usual interrogatory of the prisoner.

To the questions addressed to him, the accused replied that his name was Fernand Wagner; that he was a native of Germany; that he had no profession, avocation nor calling; that he was possessed of a large fortune; and that having traveled over many parts of the world, he settled in Florence, where he had hoped to enjoy a tranquil and peaceful existence.

“The murdered female was reputed to be your sister,” said the chief judge. “Was such the fact?”

“She was a near relative,” answered Wagner.

“But was she your sister?” demanded the procurator fiscal.

“She was not.”

“Then in what degree of relationship did she stand toward you?” asked the chief judge.

“I must decline to reply to that question.”

“The tribunal infers, therefore, that the murdered female was not related to you at all,” observed the judge. “Was she not your mistress?”

“No, my lord!” cried Wagner, emphatically. “As truly as Heaven now hears my assertion, it was not so!”

“Was she your wife?” demanded the chief judge.

A negative answer was given.

The chief judge and the procurator fiscal then by turns questioned and cross-questioned the prisoner in the most subtle manner, to induce him state the degree of relationship subsisting between himself and Agnes; but he either refused to respond to their queries, or else answered direct ones by means of a positive denial.

The lieutenant of the sbirri was at length called upon to give an account of the discovery of the dead body and the suspicious circumstances which had led to the arrest of Wagner. Two of these circumstances appeared to be very strong against him. The first was the soiled and blood-stained appearance of the garments which were found in his chamber; the other was the exclamation—“But how know you that it is Agnes who is murdered?”—uttered before any one had informed who had been murdered.

Wagner was called upon for an explanation. He stated that he had been out the whole night; that the blood upon his garments had flowed from his own body, which had been scratched and torn in the mazes of the woods; that on his return home he met Agnes in the garden; that he had left her there; and that he was told a young lady had been assassinated in the vicinity of his dwelling, he immediately conceived that the victim must be Agnes.

When questioned concerning the motives of his absence from home during the entire night he maintained a profound silence; but he was evidently much agitated and excited by the queries thus put to him. He said nothing about the stranger-lady who had so frequently terrified Agnes; because, in relating the proceedings of that mysterious female in respect to his deceased grand-daughter—especially the incident of the abstraction of the antique jewels which the late Count of Riverola had given to her—he would have been compelled to enter into details concerning the amour between those who were no more. And this subject he was solicitous to avoid, not only through respect for the memory of the murdered Agnes, but also to spare the feelings of Count Francisco and Donna Nisida.

The judges and the procurator fiscal, rinding that they could elicit nothing from Wagner relative to the cause of his absence from home during the night preceding the murder, passed on to another subject.

“In an apartment belonging to your residence,” said the chief judge, “there are several pictures and portraits.”

Wagner turned pale and trembled. The judge made a signal to an officer of the court, and that functionary quitted the judgment hall. In a few minutes he returned, followed by three subordinates bearing the two portraits mentioned in the sixth chapter of this tale, and also the frame covered over with the large piece of black cloth. On perceiving this last object, Wagner became paler still, and trembled violently.

“There are six other pictures in the room whence these have been taken,” said the judge; “but these six are not of a character to interest the tribunal. We however require explanations concerning the two portraits and the frame with the black cloth cover now before us.”

The greatest excitement at present prevailed amongst the audience.

“On one of the portraits,” continued the chief judge, “there is an inscription to this effect,— F., Count of A., terminated his career on the 1st. of August, 1517. —What does this inscription mean?”

“It means that Faust, Count of Aurana, was a nobleman with whom I traveled during a period of eighteen months,” replied Wagner; “and he died on the day mentioned in that inscription.”

“The world has heard strange reports relative to Faust,” said the chief judge, in a cold voice and with unchanged manner, although the mention of that name had produced a thrill of horror on the part of his brother judges and the audience. “Art thou aware that rumor ascribes to him a compact with the Evil One?”

Wagner gazed around him in horrified amazement, for the incident of the preceding night returned with such force to his mind that he could scarcely subdue an agonizing ebullition of emotion.

The chief judge next recited the inscription on the other portrait:—“ F. W. January 7th, 1516. His last day thus. ” But Wagner maintained a profound silence, and neither threats nor entreaties could induce him to give the least explanation concerning that inscription.

“Let us then proceed to examine this frame with the black cloth cover,” said the chief judge.

“My lord,” whispered one of his brother judges, “in the name of the Blessed Virgin! have naught more to do with this man. Let him go forth to execution: he is a monster of atrocity, evidently a murderer, doubtless leagued with the Evil One, as Faust, of whose acquaintance he boasts, was before him——”

“For my part, I credit not such idle tales,” interrupted the chief judge, “and it is my determination to sift this matter to the very foundation. I am rather inclined to believe that the prisoner is allied with the banditti who infest the republic, than with any preterhuman powers. His absence from home during the entire night, according to his own admission, his immense wealth, without any ostensible resources, all justify my suspicion. Let the case proceed,” added the chief judge aloud; for he had made the previous observations in a low tone. “Usher, remove the black cloth from the picture!”

“No! no!” exclaimed Wagner, wildly: and he was about to rush from the dock, but the sbirri held him back. The usher’s hand was already on the black cloth.

“I beseech your lordship to pause!” whispered the assistant judge who had before spoken.

“Proceed!” exclaimed the presiding functionary in a loud authoritative tone; for he was a bold and fearless man.

And scarcely were these word uttered, when the black cloth was stripped from the frame; and the usher who had removed the covering recoiled with a cry of horror, as his eyes obtained a glimpse of the picture which was now revealed to view.

“What means this folly?” ejaculated the chief judge. “Bring the picture hither.”

The usher, awed by the manner of this great functionary, raised the picture in such a way that the judges and the procurator fiscal might obtain a full view of it.

“A Wehr-Wolf!” ejaculated the assistant judge, who had previously remonstrated with his superior; and his countenance became pale as death.

The dreadful words were echoed by other tongues in the court; and a panic fear seized on all save the chief judge and Wagner himself. The former smiled contemptuously, the latter had summoned all his courage to aid him to pass through this terrible ordeal without confirming by his conduct the dreadful suspicion which had been excited in respect to him.

For, oh! the subject of that picture was indeed awful to contemplate! It had no inscription, but it represented, with the most painful and horrifying fidelity, the writhings and agonizing throes of the human being during the progress of transformation into the lupine monster. The countenance of the unhappy man had already elongated into one of savage and brute-like shape; and so admirably had art counterfeited nature, that the rich garments seemed changed into a rough, shaggy, and wiry skin! The effect produced by that picture was indeed of thrilling and appalling interest!

“A Wehr-Wolf!” had exclaimed one of the assistant judges: and while the voices of several of the male spectators in the body of the court echoed the words mechanically, the ladies gave vent to screams, as they rushed toward the doors of the tribunal. In a few moments that part of the court was entirely cleared.

“Prisoner!” exclaimed the chief judge, “have you ought more to advance in your defense, relative to the charge of murder?”

“My lord, I am innocent!” said Wagner, firmly but respectfully.

“The tribunal pronounces you guilty!” continued the chief judge: then, with a scornful smile toward his assistants and the procurator fiscal—who all three, as well as the sbirri and the officers of the court were pale and trembling with vague fear—the presiding functionary continued thus:—“The tribunal condemns you, Fernand Wagner, to death by the hand of the common headsman; and it is now my duty to name the day and fix the hour for your execution. Therefore I do ordain that the sentence just pronounced be carried into effect precisely at the hour of sunset on the last day of the present month!”

“My lord! my lord!” exclaimed the procurator fiscal; “the belief is that on the last day of each month, and at the hour of sunset——”

“I am aware of the common superstition,” interrupted the chief judge, coldly and sternly; “and it is to convince the world of the folly of putting faith in such legends that I have fixed that day and that hour in the present instance. Away with the prisoner to his dungeon.”

And the chief judge waved his hand imperiously, to check any further attempts at remonstrance; but his assistant functionaries, the procurator fiscal and the officers of the court, surveyed him with mingled surprise and awe, uncertain whether they ought to applaud his courage or tremble at his rashness. Wagner had maintained a calm and dignified demeanor during the latter portion of the proceedings; and, although the sbirri who had charge of him ventured not to lay a finger upon him, he accompanied them back to the prison of the Palazzo del Podesta. 7T89wJnwyjGM/+HzzKqUcLH4PeS5BhP1pZ0ccSkKe8jpJARPL2sF8UxqN63L2X2w