Betty herself, too, was in one of her blessed tempers, all because Mary Anne would n't let her stick all the old artificial flowers, that were thrown away, over her bonnet. As Mary Anne said to her, "she only wanted wax-candles to be like a Christmas-tree." The consequence was that she cried and howled all the way, till we dined; after that she slept and snored awfully. To mend matters, Paddy got very drunk, and had to be tied on the box, and drew a crowd round us, at every place we changed horses, by his yells. In other respects the journey was agreeable.
We supped at a place called Offenburg; and, indeed, I thought we 'd never get away from it, for K. I. found out that the landlord could speak English, and was, besides, a great farmer; and, in spite of Mary Anne and myself, he had the man in to supper, and there they sat, smoking, and drinking, and prosing about clover and green crops and flax, and such things, till past midnight. However, it did one thing,—it made K. I. good-humored for the rest of the way; for the truth is, Molly, the nature of the man is unchanged, and, I believe, unchangeable. Do what we will, take him where we may, give him all the advantages of high life and genteel society, but his heart will still cling to yearling heifers and ewes; and he'd rather be at Ballinasloe than a ball at Buckingham Palace.
We ought to have been at Freyburg in time to sleep, but we did n't get there till breakfast hour. I 'm mighty particular about all the names of these places, Molly, for it will amuse you to trace our journey on the celestial globe in the schoolroom, and then you'll perceive how we are going "round the world" in earnest.
After breakfast we went to see the cathedral of the town. It is really a fine sight; and the carving that's thrown away in dark, out-of-the-way places, would make two other churches. The most beautiful thing of all, however, is an image of the Virgin, sheltering under her cloak more than a dozen cardinals and bishops. She is looking down at the creatures—for they are all made small in comparison—with an angelical smile, as much as to say, "Keep quiet, and nobody will see you." I suppose she wants to get them into heaven "unknownst;" or, as James rather irreverently expressed it, "going to do it by a dodge." To judge by their faces, they are not quite at their ease; they seem to think that their case isn't too good, and that it will go hard with them if they 're found out! And I suppose, my dear Molly, that's the way with the best of us. Sure, with all our plotting and scheming for the good of our children, after lives of every kind of device, ain't we often masses of corruption?—isn't our very best thoughts, sometimes, wicked enough? Them was exactly my own meditations, as I sat alone in a dark corner of the church, musing and reflecting, and only brought to myself as I heard K. I. fighting with one of the "beagles"—I think they call them—about a bad groschen in change!
"I'm never in a heavenly frame of mind, K. I." said I to him, "that you don't bring me back to earthly feelings with your meanness."
"If you told me you were going to heaven, Mrs. D.," said he, "I would n't have brought you out of it for worlds!"
It did n't need the grin that he gave, to show me what the meaning of this speech was. The old wretch said as much as that he wished me dead and buried; so I just gave him a look, and passed out of the church with contempt. Oh, Molly, Molly, whatever may be your spire in life, never descend from it for a husband!
You 'll laugh when I tell you that we left this place by the Valley of Hell. That's the name of it; and so far as gloom and darkness goes, not a bad name either. It is a deep, narrow glen, with only room for a narrow road at the bottom of it, and over your head the rocks seem ready to tumble down and crush you to atoms. Instead, too, of getting through it as fast as we could, K. I. used to stop the carriage, and get out to "examine the position," as he called it; for it seems that a great French general once made a wonderful retreat through this same pass years ago. K. I. and James had bought a map, and this they used to spread out on the ground; and sometimes they got into disputing about the name of this place or that, so that the Valley of Hell had its share of torments for me and Mary Anne before we got out of it.
At a little lake called the "Titi See"—be sure you look for it on the globe, and you'll know it by a small island in it with willow-trees—we found that the Baron had sent horses to meet us, and eight miles more brought us to the place of our destiny. I own to you, Molly, that I could have cried with sheer disappointment, when I found we were in the demesne without knowing it. I was always looking out for a grand entrance,—maybe an archway between two towers, like Nockslobber Castle, or an elegant cut-stone building, with a lodge at each side, like Dolly Mount; but there we were, Molly, driving through deep clay roads, with great fields of maize at each side of us, and neither a gate nor a hedge,—not a bit of paling to be seen anywhere. There were trees enough, but they were ugly pines and firs, or beech, with all the lower branches lopped away for firewood. We had two miles or more of this interesting landscape, and then we came out upon a great wide space planted with mangel and beetroot, and all cut up with little drains, or canals of running water; and in the middle of this, like a great, big, black, dirty jail, stood the Castle of Wolfenfels. I give you my first impressions honestly, Molly, because, on nearer acquaintance, I have lived to see them changed.
I must say our reception drove all other thoughts away. The old Baron was confined to his room with the gout, and could n't come down to meet us; but the discharge of cannon, the sounds of music, and the joyful shouts of the people—of whom there were some hundreds assembled—was really imposing.