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Once outside the door, Martha Scweinvolt became perfectly livid with rage. She turned round on the top of the stairs, faced the Baroness’s room, and shook her fist vehemently towards it, vowing by her eleven-o’clock bread and cheese and beer (the most solemn oath known among domestic servants of the feminine gender) that she would have her revenge. Nor was Martha a person by any means likely to forget or neglect such a vow. Day and night she brooded over the matter, and ground her teeth savagely together as she remembered the indignity to which she had been subjected. And the more she brooded, the more determined did she become to seek vengeance from some quarter whence it could be surely and safely obtained. By herself she knew she could do but little; and as she was by no means popular among the other servants of the household, she could place but little reliance on any assistance from them. How to proceed, therefore, she had great doubts, but to proceed in some manner she was quite determined.
Now unfortunately for me, Brother Thames, as you may perhaps be aware, a part of my stream has always been more or less under the influence of a class of river demons from which you in England are happily free. I believe a milder kind of demon exists in Scotland under the name of water kelpie, and possibly there may be something of the sort here and there even in your favoured English rivers, but you have nothing to match the demons of the Rhine. It is not a theme upon which I love to dwell. No respectable river desires to have anything to do with such creatures, and I frankly confess that at times they have brought my waters into great disrepute.
Well (or rather not at all “well,” according to my view of the case), it happened that the Rhine near the castle of the Baron von Bandelboots was terribly infested by these noxious spirits, only too ready at all times to do any mischief in their power to any human being, or to assist one mortal in gratifying his or her malice against another. To these demons did Martha Scweinvolt determine to appeal, and made up her mind to risk, if necessary, body and soul in order to obtain vengeance upon her hated mistress.
Very often I am able to prevent the wicked plans and machinations of these spirits, and I never fail to do so if I can manage it. If things had gone rightly, I should have stopped the affair of which I am about to tell you, and nipped it in the bud if possible, either by overflowing my banks suddenly and drowning the wretch Martha, or by some other means which my knowledge of the world would have enabled me to provide. But it most unfortunately happened that the nymphs and trolls and friendly elves of the river and forests near had given me an entertainment that very evening, at which they played me several very curious tricks. The jovial rascals insisted on my drinking my Steinbergh in large pint measures, so that I got rather more than my usual allowance; then they fastened a huge white beard upon my chin, pulled my whiskers, combed my hair, whispered soft things in my ear, climbed on my knees, and altogether kept me so well amused, that I never went out at all that evening to patrol the river banks, according to my usual habit, and was therefore entirely ignorant of all that occurred, until I was told it some time after by a member of the Rhine Conservancy Board, who had it from good authority.
It. seems that Martha Scweinvolt, having gone out late that evening, wandered down to the river, and there prayed vehemently to the demons for aid. Such prayers are hardly necessary to procure the assistance of bad spirits, when their object is to do mischief to somebody else.