"'Seems' is the word to use," commented the Archbishop gravely, "but the
unbroken placidity of the river you so much admire is a peace of defeat.
I had much rather see its flood disturbed by moving barges and the
turmoil of commerce. It is a peace that means starvation and death to
our capital city, and, indeed, in a lesser degree, to my own town of
Cologne, and to Coblentz, whose gates we are approaching."

"But surely," persisted the girl, "the outlook is improving, when you
and I travel unmolested with a mere handful of men to guard us. Time was
when a great and wealthy Archbishop might not stir abroad with less than
a thousand men in his train."

The Archbishop smiled.

"I suppose matters mend," he said, "as we progress in civilized usage.
The number of my escort, however, is not limited by my own modesty, but
stipulated by the Court of Archbishops. Mayence travels down the Rhine
and Treves down the Moselle, each with a similar following at his
heels."

"You are pessimistic this lovely morning, my Lord, and will not even
admit that the world is beautiful."

"It all depends on the point of view, Hildegunde. I regard it from a
position toward the end of life, and you from the charming station of
youth: the far-apart outlook of an old man and a young girl."

"Nonsense, Guardian, you are anything but old. Nevertheless I am much
disappointed with your attitude this morning. I fully expected to be