ghtful time together, during which he told me the sequel of the
Van Tromp episode. Instead of one, the Countess had two husbands living;
but the Van Tromps preferred to buy off the woman at a good round sum
rather than have a public scandal.

Amstel interviewed the Countess, and gave her the choice between arrest
and a full release of all claims on the Van Tromp property for the sum
of 100,000 gulden. She made a hard fight, but at last gave in
gracefully. But my chapter has grown too long already, and I will close
it with the remark that I myself met the lady at Wiesbaden in 1871, and
became acquainted with the brilliant adventuress. She will appear again
in the sequel.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE MERRY SUMMER OVER AND NO HARVEST STORED.

From Cologne to Frankfort is about 140 miles, and swiftly our train sped
along up the Rhine--the lovely stream about which poets have raved for
twenty generations. What classic ground! What scenes have its waters
reflected, its mountains looked upon! In the old days its rolling floods
made a deep impression on the stout Roman heart. More than one army,
carrying with it the hearts of the Roman world, had crossed that river
and plunged into the unknown forests beyond, only to go down in the
shock of conflict with the brave but barbarian foe, leaving not one
solitary survivor to carry back tidings to Rome of the fate of her army.
And down through all the linked centuries the history of the Rhine has
been the history of giant armies marching against each other, and of
brothers slaughtering brothers. To-day the plains of Germany and France
bear a million of armed men, ranged face to face, with only the Rhine
between, eagerly awaiting the signal to pour a deadly rain on each
other. And for what?

The last face that I saw at the Cologne station was that of Amstel, lit
up with smiles as he waved his hand in adieu. Sitting cozily in the
corner of the carriage, eager to see all that was to be seen, I found,
as all tourists do, much to charm and delight. But my thoughts were on
the bonds I had to sell, and I was glad enough when at 5 o'clock our
train drew into the depot at Frankfort.

Alighting I took a cab and drove to the Hotel Landsberg, and, although
tired, the scenes and surroundings were too novel for me to think of
sleep. So I dined and went out to view the city, but as I will have
occasion to refer to the place again, I will leave any description of it
until another chapter.

In