The Ghostly Procession (August Nacht)
The monotonous noise of the rain and the leaves that fluttered in the wind made him feel drowsy. His eyelids gradually became heavier and heavier and he was very close to falling asleep in the saddle. When he made a last effort to open his eyes, his vision was hazy and blurred. It then seemed to him that his path was being crossed by a strange procession consisting of morbidly thin figures dressed in long white tunics that reached to the ground.
“Mein Gott!” he cried as he abruptly pulled back the reins.
The horse recoiled and stopped short, as if it had been turned to stone. August felt that the animal was trembling all over. He rubbed his eyes, thinking that what he was witnessing was nothing more than a hallucination caused by the vapours of an analgesic ointment which he had applied to his previous patient and which he must have inadvertently inhaled. However, the more intensely he stared at the procession, the more convinced he became that, exhaustion notwithstanding, he was quite alert and that his eyes were not deceiving him.
All of a sudden the gusty wind died down and a deathlike silence reigned over the woodlands, interrupted only by the funereal chant of the pilgrims. The procession moved forward very slowly, singing some unintelligible song whose melody resembled mournful moaning more than any kind of music. The white figures with grey faces and sunken eye sockets were carrying human shin bones that burnt like torches. August’s brow was now covered in droplets of ice-cold perspiration.
The horse’s body had become completely stiff, while its sides began to sweat. August patted its back, which was also covered in moisture. Instinctively drying his hand with his handkerchief, he was horrified to see that the animal was sweating blood.
“If I’ve gone mad, so has the horse. What does this all mean?” he thought as he followed the last pilgrim with his eyes.
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