"No, Hilsborn, God knows we do not. This superficial idea of beauty explains the fact that Fräulein Hartwich was called ugly as a child, although she had a beautiful brow, a fine profile, and such eyes as I never saw before or since in my life,--eyes, Hilsborn,"--and he laid his hand upon his friend's arm,--"in which lay a world of slumbering feeling, and the promise of bliss unspeakable for him who should awaken it to life. I had forgotten the little girl whom I saw only once, but when lately I encountered a glance from the eyes of that strange, lovely woman, I recognized the child again,--the poor, forsaken child. There was the old shy melancholy in those eyes, and they pierced my heart with a foreboding pain. I could have taken her in my arms and borne her away from the hill where she stood, as formerly from the breaking bough to which she had fled from me!" "God grant she be worthy of such a man as you!" said Hilsborn. "Do not speak so, Hilsborn; you know I will not listen to such words. Let us ask this fellow more about her." He turned to the young peasant, who was walking whistling on the other side of the road. "Is she not at least kind to the poor?" he asked. "God preserve any one to whom she is kind! No one wants anything from her. Her uncle distributes some money every week, but only the very poorest people take it, and they always cross themselves over it." Johannes and Hilsborn looked at each other with a smile. "Then her evil influence extends even to her charities?" "Yes, that's what I mean,--wherever she goes she carries misfortune. She pretends to know more than any one, and wants to introduce all sorts of new-fangled ways. She wouldn't have people sick with a fever covered up in good, thick feather beds, or give them a single glass of good liquor. All that was wrong, she said. A poor widow in the village had a sick child, which she nursed as well as she could. The Hartwich went to see her, and overpersuaded the woman, so that she let her watch with it one night. Scarcely had she seated herself by the cradle when the child grew worse, and fell into convulsions. The Hartwich sent the mother to the castle to send off a man on horseback for the doctor, and was left all alone with the child. When the woman got back from the castle the witch had the child on her lap, and the poor little thing was dying. The woman, frantic with terror, tore the little body out of her arms; but it was dead! and the Hartwich left her, as she would not hear a word from her. When the doctor came, he talked all sorts of stuff, and wanted to have the child dissected, as they call it; but of course no Christian mother would allow such a thing, and no one knew what the Hartwich had done to the poor little creature." "But, you foolish people," began Johannes indignantly, "you do not suppose----" Hilsborn signed to him to be silent. "Hush!" he said in a whisper; "will you attempt what the gods try vainly--to contend with stupidity?"