“In that case, my Lord, how could I refuse?”

“I hope, my child, you will not, but if you should make objection, do so with all the tact at your disposal.  In fact, refrain wholly from objection if you can, and plead for time to consider, so that you and I may consult together, thus affording me opportunity of bringing arguments to bear that may influence your decision.”

“My dear Guardian, you alarm me by the awesome way in which you speak.  What fateful choice hangs over my head?”

“I have no wish to frighten you, my daughter, and, indeed, I anticipate little chance of disagreement at the conference.  I merely desire that you shall understand something of Mayence.  He is a man whom opposition may drive to extremity, and being accustomed to crush those who disagree with him, rather than conquer by more diplomatic methods, I am anxious you should not be led into any semblance of dissent from his wishes.  By agreement between Mayence, Treves, and myself, I am not allowed to enlighten you regarding the question at issue.  I perhaps strain that agreement a little when I endeavor to put you on your guard.  If, at any point in the discussion, you wish a few moments to reflect, glance across the table at me, and I shall immediately intervene with some interruption which must be debated by the three members of the Court.  Of course, I shall do everything in my power to protect you should our grim friend Mayence lose his temper, as may happen if you thwart him.”

“Why am I likely to thwart him?”

“Why indeed?  I see no reason.  I am merely an old person perhaps over-cautious.  Hence this warding off of a crisis which I hope will 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.