supply our want of judgement, and the others followed. We left to our
right a beautiful castle belonging to Count Trautmannsdorf, and the
little church of St. Valentine, which stands quite isolated in a
sheltered valley. Our way then again turned to the north over a hill
which rises at the foot of the Ifinger, whose snowy summit towered in
the clear autumnal sky. The whole ridge of the hill is covered with
solitary farms, intermingled with old castles that are now chiefly
inhabited by rich wine growing peasants who, during the summer months,
lodge invalid strangers. I have forgotten the names of most of them,
only one of them I remember, the castle of Rubein. There in front of
the old battlements stand tall slender cypresses, like guardians round
an old sarcophagus and contrast by their sombre hue with the green and
yellow foliage of the vine. We took a hasty survey of the courtyard.
The small open gallery supported by pillars, the steep stairs, which
lead up to it, and in the corner the old, and now nearly bare
walnut-tree round which myriads of birds were fluttering and singing,
so that it seemed as if they had enjoyed too much of their grape
harvest and were now intoxicated and overmerry. I could fill pages with
a description of the beauties of these heights. Further on, towards the
valley of Passeir, the road gently ascends underneath noble chesnut and
walnut-trees, and the view opens out to the Kuechelberg, and my dear old
Zenoburg, till it rests on the high projecting village of Schoenna with
its old castle.

When we arrived it was just noon. We were both tired by our long ride,
hungry and silent. The sights in which we had revelled still occupied
our thoughts, and here again our eyes hardly sufficed to enjoy the view
which extended far and near from every window. I entered the tap-room,
whilst Morrik talked to the landlord outside, and sat quietly in the
dusk for a while with closed eyes endeavouring to recover my calmness.

The room had a projecting bay window which formed a sort of recess,
where sat, as a hasty glance when I entered had shown me, a young
peasant, and a girl with their dinner and wine before them. They seemed
to notice me as little as I did them. Morrik then came in, and sat down
at a table beside me. He appeared more cheerful than usual, but also
looked paler, as if the air had fatigued him. We talked about
indifferent subjects. Suddenly the young peasant rose from his seat in
the window, and