He chose her and had me murdered in order to be with her. The price he paid for her power and witchcraft. A power she did not truly possess but he, as the others, find this truth too late.
Artists (particularly Boehn) and authors (Goethe) told us what became of him.
But the two men told him they buried me near the tree under a large pile of rocks. He met them on the hill and they showed him. She then joined him, as usual, in a false display of sorrow. You can see her with the milkmaid braid in the other photo below, with him at the head of the bed and the two final murders at my side.
The method she used to weaken me was also depicted. His own actions and desires sealed his fate. Contentment his cell.
The site was almost identical to the painting by Caspar David Friedrich (1824) but with a slightly fuller tree and it was clearly near a ledge or an embankment of some kind.
Like the fate of Faust, the choice mars them as they are sucked dry by the psychic vampire-a day walking succubus.
She and her ilk bring only pain, stagnation and decay. Their false promises, facades, manipulations and mind controls are powerful but their only tricks and prowess.
My grave remained unmarked. His heart and soul did not.
It is also fascinating that the painting was later re-created or changed.