“How lovely and how peaceful is the scene,” said the Countess.  “How beautiful are the fields of waving grain; their color of dawn softened by the deep green of interspersed vineyards, and the water without a ripple, like a slumbering lake rather than a strong river.  It seems as though anger, contention, and struggle could not exist in a realm so heavenly.”

“‘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 complimented by you.”

“Doesn’t my whole attitude breathe of compliment?”

“Ah, but I expected a particular compliment to-day!”

“What have I overlooked?”

“You overlooked the fact that yesterday you aroused my most intense curiosity regarding the journey we are now taking together, and the conference which is to follow.  Despite deep anxiety to learn what is before me I have not asked you a single question, nor even hinted at the subject until this moment.  Now, I think I should be rewarded for my reticence.”

“Ah, Countess, you are an exception among women, and I merely withheld the well-earned praise until such time as I could broach the subject occupying my mind ever since we left the Castle.  With the awkwardness of a man I did not know how to begin until you so kindly indicated the way.”

“Perhaps, after all, I make a false claim, because I have guessed your secret, and therefore my deep solicitude is assumed.”

“Guessed it?” queried the Archbishop, a shade of anxiety crossing his face.

“Yes.  Your story of the former Archbishop and the Countess Matilda gave me a clue.  You have discovered a document proving my right to the town of Linz on the Rhine.”