But the shadow soon approach’d them, And a man was in the mantle, And Ramiro recognising, Clara greeted him with blushes.
And the dancing has begun now, And the dancers whirl round gaily In the waltz’s giddy mazes, And the ground beneath them trembles.
“Gladly will I, Don Ramiro, In the dance become thy partner, But thou didst not well to come here In a black and nightlike mantle.”
But with eyes all fix’d and piercing Looks Ramiro on the fair one; Clasping her, with gloom thus speaks he: “At thy bidding have I come here!”
And the pair of dancers vanish In the dance’s giddy mazes, And the kettle-drums sound loudly, And the trumpets, too, are crashing.
“Snow-white are thy cheeks, Ramiro,” Clara speaks with secret trembling. “At thy bidding have I come here!” In a hollow voice replies he.
In the hall the wax-lights glimmer Through the ebbing, flowing masses, And the kettle-drums sound loudly, And the trumpets, too, are crashing.
“Ice-cold are thy hands, Ramiro,” Clara speaks with shudd’ring terror. “At thy bidding have I come here!” And within the whirl they vanish.
“Leave me, leave me, Don Ramiro! Ah, thy breath is like a corpse’s!” Once again the dark words speaks he “At thy bidding have I come here!”
And the very ground seems glowing. Fiddle, viol sound right merry; Like a wondrous weft of magic All within the hall is whirling.
“Leave me, leave me, Don Ramiro!” Sadly sounds amidst the tumult; Don Ramiro ever answers: “At thy bidding have I come here!”
“In the name of God depart, then!” Clara with a firm voice utters, And the words she scarce had spoken When Ramiro vanish’d from her.
Clara, death in every feature, Chilly, night-surrounded, stood there, And a swoon her lightsome figure To its darksome kingdom carries.
But at last her misty slumber Yields, at last her eyelids open, But again, with deep amazement, Would she fain have closed her fair eyes.
For since they began the dancing, From her seat had she not moved once, And she still sits by the bridegroom, And the anxious knight thus asks her
“Say, why are thy cheeks so pallid? Wherefore is thine eye so darksome?”-- “And Ramiro?”--stammers Clara, And her tongue is mute with horror.
But with deep and solemn wrinkles Is the bridegroom’s brow now furrow’d: “Lady, bloody news why seek’st thou? This day’s noontide died Ramiro.”