Alas10! it was his unlucky day. His sincere desire and honest endeavour to perjure11 himself were baffled by a circumstance he had never foreseen nor indeed thought possible.
He had spoken the truth.
And IN AN AFFIDAVIT12!
The officers, on reaching “The Silver Lion”, found the birds were flown.
They went down to the river, and from intelligence they received there, started up the bank in hot pursuit.
This temporary escape the friends owed to Denys's good sense and observation. After a peal13 of laughter, that it was a cordial to hear, and after venting14 his watchword three times, he turned short grave, and told Gerard Dusseldorf was no place for them. “That old fellow,” said he, “went off unnaturally15 silent for such a babbler: we are strangers here; the bailiff is his friend: in five minutes we shall lie in a dungeon16 for assaulting a Dusseldorf dignity, are you strong enough to hobble to the water's edge? it is hard by. Once there you have but to lie down in a boat instead of a bed; and what is the odds17?”
“The odds, Denys? untold18, and all in favour of the boat. I pine for Rome; for Rome is my road to Sevenbergen; and then we shall lie in the boat, but ON the Rhine, the famous Rhine; the cool, refreshing19 Rhine. I feel its breezes coming: the very sight will cure a little hop-'o-my-thumb fever like mine; away! away!”
Finding his excitable friend in this mood, Denys settled hastily with the landlord, and they hurried to the river. On inquiry20 they found to their dismay that the public boat was gone this half hour, and no other would start that day, being afternoon. By dint21, however, of asking a great many questions, and collecting a crowd, they obtained an offer of a private boat from an old man and his two sons.
This was duly ridiculed22 by a bystander. “The current is too strong for three oars23.”
“Then my comrade and I will help row,” said the invalid24.
“No need,” said the old man. “Bless your silly heart, he owns t'other boat.”
There was a powerful breeze right astern; the boatmen set a broad sail, and rowing also, went off at a spanking25 rate.
“Are ye better, lad, for the river breeze?”
“Much better. But indeed the doctor did me good.”
“The doctor? Why, you would none of his cures.”
“No, but I mean—you will say I am nought26—but knocking the old fool down—somehow—it soothed27 me.”
“Amiable dove! how thy little character opens more and more every day, like a rosebud28. I read thee all wrong at first.”
“Nay29, Denys, mistake me not, neither. I trust I had borne with his idle threats, though in sooth his voice went through my poor ears; but he was an infidel, or next door to one, and such I have been taught to abhor30. Did he not as good as say, we owed our inward parts to men with long Greek names, and not to Him, whose name is but a syllable31, but whose hand is over all the earth? Pagan!”
“So you knocked him down forthwith—like a good Christian32.”
“Now, Denys, you will still be jesting. Take not an ill man's part. Had it been a thunderbolt from Heaven, he had met but his due; yet he took but a sorry bolster33 from this weak arm.”
“What weak arm?” inquired Denys, with twinkling eyes. “I have lived among arms, and by Samson's hairy pow never saw I one more like a catapult. The bolster wrapped round his nose and the two ends kissed behind his head, and his forehead resounded34, and had he been Goliath, or Julius Caesar, instead of an old quacksalver, down he had gone. St. Denys guard me from such feeble opposites as thou! and above all from their weak arms—thou diabolical35 young hypocrite.”
The river took many turns, and this sometimes brought the wind on their side instead of right astern. Then they all moved to the weather side to prevent the boat heeling over too much all but a child of about five years old, the grandson of the boatman, and his darling; this urchin36 had slipped on board at the moment of starting, and being too light to affect the boat's trim, was above, or rather below, the laws of navigation.
They sailed merrily on, little conscious that they were pursued by a whole posse of constables37 armed with the bailiff's writ38, and that their pursuers were coming up with them; for if the wind was strong, so was the current.
And now Gerard suddenly remembered that this was a very good way to Rome, but not to Burgundy. “Oh, Denys,” said he, with an almost alarmed look, “this is not your road.”
“I know it,” said Denys quietly; “but what can I do? I cannot leave thee till the fever leaves thee; and it is on thee still, for thou art both red and white by turns; I have watched thee. I must e'en go on to Cologne, I doubt, and then strike across.”
“Thank Heaven,” said Gerard joyfully39. He added eagerly, with a little touch of self-deception, “'Twere a sin to be so near Cologne and not see it. Oh, man, it is a vast and ancient city such as I have often dreamed of, but ne'er had the good luck to see. Me miserable40, by what hard fortune do I come to it now? Well then, Denys,” continued the young man less warmly, “it is old enough to have been founded by a Roman lady in the first century of grace, and sacked by Attila the barbarous, and afterwards sore defaced by the Norman Lothaire. And it has a church for every week in the year forbye chapels41 and churches innumerable of convents and nunneries, and above all, the stupendous minster yet unfinished, and therein, but in their own chapel42, lie the three kings that brought gifts to our Lord, Melchior gold, and Gaspar frankincense, and Balthazar the black king, he brought myrrh; and over their bones stands the shrine43 the wonder of the world; it is of ever-shining brass44 brighter than gold, studded with images fairly wrought45, and inlaid with exquisite46 devices, and brave with colours; and two broad stripes run to and fro, of jewels so great, so rare, each might adorn47 a crown or ransom48 its wearer at need; and upon it stand the three kings curiously49
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