"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?"
"You are right," replied Johannes. "This people needs the teaching of centuries."
"Well, my good fellow," he said, again addressing the peasant, "what happened then?"
"Why, that very night, after the doctor was gone, the Hartwich came to the woman and offered her money,--I suppose to induce her to hold her tongue,--but the poor thing showed her the door, and told her what she thought of her."
"That was her thanks!" murmured Johannes.
"Since then she goes to see no one, and we are quit of her."