of mankind is brought by you to be the deadly foe of Cologne.'
So saying, Gottlieb departed.
'Seest thou, my son,' quoth the Monk, 'they reason not!'
Farina was dejected. Willingly would he, for his part, have left the
soul of Evil a loose rover for the sake of some brighter horizon to his
hope.
No twinge of remorse accompanied Gottlieb. The Kaiser had allotted him
an encampment and a guard of honour for his household while the foulness
raged, and there Gottlieb welcomed back Margarita and Aunt Lisbeth on
the noon after his meeting with Farina. The White Rose had rested at
Laach, and was blooming again. She and the Goshawk came trotting in
advance of the Club through the woods of Laach, startling the deer
with laughter, and sending the hare with her ears laid back all across
country. In vain Dietrich menaced Guy with the terrors of the Club: Aunt
Lisbeth begged of Margarita not to leave her with the footmen in vain.
The joyous couple galloped over the country, and sprang the ditches, and
leapt the dykes, up and down the banks, glad as morning hawks, entering
Andernach at a round pace; where they rested at a hostel as capable of
producing good Rhine and Mosel wine then as now. Here they had mid-day's
meal laid out in the garden for the angry Club, and somewhat appeased
them on their arrival with bumpers of the best Scharzhofberger. After a
refreshing halt, three boats were hired. On their passage to the river,
they encountered a procession of monks headed by the Archbishop of
Andernach, bearing a small figure of Christ carved in blackthorn and
varnished: said to work miracles, and a present to the good town from
two Hungarian pilgrims.
'Are ye for Cologne?' the monks inquired of them.
'Direct down stream!' they answered.
'Send, then, hither to us Gregory, the conqueror of Darkness, that he
may know there is gratitude on earth and gratulation for great deeds,'
said the monks.
So with genuflexions the travellers proceeded, and entered the boats
by the Archbishop's White Tower. Hammerstein Castle and Rheineck
they floated under; Salzig and the Ahr confluence; Rolandseck and
Nonnenwerth; Drachenfels and Bonn; hills green with young vines; dells
waving fresh foliage. Margarita sang as they floated. Ancient ballads
she sang that made the Goshawk sigh for home, and affected the Club with
delirious love for the grand old water that was speeding them onward.
Aunt Lisbeth was not to be moved. She alone held down
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