never arise."

"Guardian, I have one question to ask, and that will settle the matter
here on the border of the Rhine, before we reach Stolzenfels. Do you
thoroughly approve, with your heart, mind, and conscience, of the
proposition to be made to me?"

"I do," replied the Archbishop, in a tone of conviction that none could
gainsay. "Heart and soul, agree."

"Then, Guardian, your crisis that never came vanishes. I shall tell his
Lordship of Mayence, in my sweetest voice and most ingratiating manner,
that I will do whatever he requests."

Here the conversation ceased, for the solitude now gave way to a scene
of activity, as they came to the landing alongside which lay the
floating bridge, a huge barge, capable of carrying their whole company
at one voyage. Several hundred persons, on horseback or on foot,
gathered along the river-bank, raised a cheer as the Archbishop
appeared. The Countess thought they waited to greet him, but they were
merely travelers or market people who found their journey interrupted at
this point. An emissary of the Archbishop had commanded the ferry-boat
to remain at its eastern landing until his Lordship came aboard. When
the distinguished party embarked, the crew instantly cast off their
moorings, and the tethered barge, impelled by the swift current, gently
swung across to the opposite shore.

A great concourse of people greeted their arrival at Coblentz, and if
vociferous shouts and hurrahs are signs of popularity, the Archbishop
had reason to congratulate himself upon his reception. The prelate bowed