agrees eagerly to Caspar's proposal, and
promises to meet him at midnight in the haunted Wolf's Glen, there to go
through the ceremony of casting the magic bullets. Meanwhile Agathe is
oppressed by forebodings of coming evil. The fall of an old picture
seems to her a presage of woe, and her lively cousin Aennchen can do
little to console her. The appearance of Max on his way to the Wolf's
Glen, cheers her but little. He too has been troubled by strange
visions, and as the moment of the rendezvous approaches his courage
begins to fail. Nevertheless he betakes himself to the Glen, and there,
amidst scenes of the wildest supernatural horror, the bullets are cast
in the presence of the terrible Samiel himself. Six of them are for Max,
to be used by him in the approaching contest, while the seventh will be
at the disposal of the demon. In the third act Agathe is discovered
preparing for her wedding. She has dreamed that, in the shape of a dove,
she was shot by Max, and she cannot shake off a sense of approaching
trouble. Her melancholy is not dissipated by the discovery that, instead
of a bridal crown, a funeral wreath has been prepared for her; however,
to console herself, she determines to wear a wreath of sacred roses,
which had been given her by the hermit of the forest. The last scene
shows the shooting contest on which the future of Max and Agathe
depends. Max makes six shots in succession, all of which hit the mark.
At last, at the Prince's command, he fires at a dove which is flying
past. Agathe falls with a shriek, but is protected by her wreath, while
Samiel directs the bullet to Caspar's heart. At the sight of his
associate's fate Max is stricken with remorse, and tells the story of
his unholy compact. The Prince is about to banish him from his service,
when the hermit appears and intercedes for the unfortunate youth. The
Prince is mollified, and it is decided that Max shall have a year's
probation, after which he shall be permitted to take the post of chief
huntsman and marry Agathe.

'Der Freischuetz' is, upon the whole, the most thoroughly characteristic
of Weber's works. The famous passage for the horns, with which the
overture opens, strikes the note of mystery and romance which echoes
through the work. The overture itself is a notable example of that new
beauty which Weber infused into the time-honoured form. If he was not
actually the first--for Beethoven had already written his 'Leonore'
overtures--to mak