Involuntarily came into Barty’s mind, as he shook the slender hand, a little song of Schubert’s he had just learnt:
“Du dist die Ruh’, der Friede mild!”
And wasn’t it odd?—all his doubts and perplexities resolved themselves at once, as by some enchantment, into a lovely, unexpected chord of extreme simplicity; and Martia was gently but firmly put aside, and the divine Julia quietly relegated to the gilded throne which was her fit and proper apanage.
Barty saw to the luggage, and sent it on, and they all went on foot behind it.
The bridge of boats across the Rhine was open in the middle to let a wood-raft go by down stream. This raft from some distant forest was so long they had to wait nearly twenty minutes; and the prow of it had all but lost itself in the western purple and gold and
