Two strangers, driving past in a light vehicle, gazed gravely and silently at the place. The road grew somewhat steep, and they descended and walked beside the horse. A young peasant passed by, with scythe and reaping-hook, and, seeing the pleasant faces of the strangers; nodded kindly to them. The elder of the two stopped, as if prompted by a sudden impulse, and asked, "What castle is that?" "That?" was the reply. "That is the Haunted Castle." "Who lives there?" "The Hartwich lives there." "Who is the Hartwich?" "Why, the witch who has rented it." "Why do you call her a witch?" "Because there's something wrong about her." "Walk on with us a little way, if you have time, and tell us something of the lady," said the stranger. "Oh, yes, I have time enough," replied the peasant, flattered by the interest that his remarks had excited. "But, good gracious! I do not know where to begin to tell about her. There is no beginning and no end to it." "How does she look?" asked the younger gentleman. "Is she pretty?" "No, indeed! She is pale and thin, and has big, coal-black eyes. And she looks so gloomy that you can tell as soon as you see her that she has an evil conscience." "It is characteristic of the degree of culture to which the common people have attained," said the elder in an undertone to his companion, "that they have no admiration for beautiful outlines, but only for flesh and colour. They think a classic profile ugly if there is not a plump cheek on either side of it. This rude taste for the raw material is natural and excusable in peasants and common labourers, whose work is principally with raw material. Where should they learn anything better? But it is sad to think how many of the educated classes there are whose taste is just as uncultivated, and who admire only the beautiful embodiment, not the embodied beauty." "Yes," added the other, "it is just so in spiritual matters. An expression of thoughtfulness is always strange and gloomy in the eyes of the common people; they are attracted only by thoughtless gaiety. The stamp of mind upon a serious brow is in their eyes the sign-manual of the evil one. But how many among ourselves are scarcely better than the people in this respect! We do not share their prejudices,--eh, Johannes?"