"There certainly is a whole mountain of charges towering between Fräulein Hartwich and her neighbours," whispered Johannes to his friend, "and I see clearly that the curse of singularity has pursued her even hither, and that this rare creature is repulsed and isolated here as she was as a child. It is high time that some strong arm should bear her hence into the purer atmosphere of a warm, healthy existence, from which her eccentricity has hitherto excluded her." "Do you see that green balcony there?" said the peasant, when they were quite near the house. "There she has hanging a kind of cittern that plays of itself. I would not believe Kunigunda, when she told me of it, at first; but then I hid myself here once, and heard it with my own ears, the music softer and sweeter than any that human hands can make. I could feel it beginning to bewitch me." "Indeed! and how did it feel?" "Oh, my heart grew so soft, so different from usual,--just--just as if I had been drinking linden-blossom tea. I could not help thinking of the girl I loved, who is dead, and I could have listened forever. Suddenly I bethought me that there was a spell weaving around me, and I ran away as fast as I could." "That was an Æolian harp, my good friend," Johannes explained; "its strings were stirred by no spirit hand, but by the wind. The spell that you perceived was only the effect of the beautiful tones upon your ear and heart; and if you had examined yourself, you would have found that, when you were thinking of your dead sweet-heart, you were better than when you are sitting in the village inn abusing the Hartwich. Consider for a moment whether an evil spirit could inspire such good, tender sensations. And listen as often as you can to the Æolian harp; it will not bewitch you,--it will only do good to you." The fellow looked in amazement at the kindly speaker. "I don't exactly understand you, sir, but you seem to mean well." "What makes you think so?" asked Johannes,--"you do not know me." "Oh, why, you look honest and good, sir," said the peasant, looking frankly into Johannes's face. "Then believe what I say, when I tell you that you do Fräulein Hartwich great wrong. I have known her from childhood, and I know that she is good and kind!" Johannes sent an earnest glance towards the castle, which they were passing. An elderly woman was just opening a window in an upper story. "Look!" cried the peasant, "that is her housekeeper, Frau Willmers. The Fräulein is just getting up--it is nine o'clock." "God bless your awakening!" Johannes breathed softly to himself.