'And men who are out of work, and are going back to their own parish,'
she said stiffly.
So we talked a little, and I too went to bed.
'_Gute Nacht, Frau Wirtin._'
'_Gute Nacht, mein Herr._'
So I went up more and more stone stairs, attended by the young woman. It
was a great, lofty, old deserted house, with many drab doors.
At last, in the distant topmost floor, I had my bedroom, with two beds
and bare floor and scant furniture. I looked down at the river far
below, at the covered bridge, at the far lights on the hill above,
opposite. Strange to be here in this lost, forgotten place, sleeping
under the roof with tramps and beggars. I debated whether they would
steal my boots if I put them out. But I risked it. The door-latch made a
loud noise on the deserted landing, everywhere felt abandoned,
forgotten. I wondered where the eight tramps and beggars were asleep.
There was no way of securing the door. But somehow I felt that, if I
were destined to be robbed or murdered, it would not be by tramps and
beggars. So I blew out the candle and lay under the big feather bed,
listening to the running and whispering of the medieval Rhine.
Pages:
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215