At noon, when at length I roused myself, we were no longer upon the sea. We swept on tranquilly between banks more picturesque, more glorious, more laden with spells for me, than any haven I had fortified with Spanish castles. Castles there were too, or what I took for castles,—silvery gray amidst leafless trees, and sometimes softest pine woods with their clinging mist. Then came shining country, where the sky met the sun-bright slopes, and then a quiet sail at rest in the tiny harbor. But an hour or two brought me to the idea of cities, though even they were as cities in a dream. And yet this was not the Rhine; but I made sure it was so, having forgotten Clo's geography lessons, and that there could be any other river in Germany,—so that when Santonio told me its real name I was very angry at it. After I had wearied myself with gazing, he drew me back to my seat, and began to speak more consecutively than he had done yet.
"Now, sir," said he, "do you see that castle?" pointing to something in the prospect which may or may not have been a castle, but which I immediately realized as one. "You are to be shut up there. Really and seriously, you have more faith than any one I ever had the honor of introducing yet, under any circumstances whatever. Pray don't you feel any curiosity about your destination?"
"Yes, sir, plenty; but I forgot what I was going for."
"And where you were going to?"
"Sir, I did not know where. I thought you would tell me when you liked."
"I don't know myself, but I daresay we shall fall in with your favorite 'Chevalier.'"
"My favorite who, sir?"
"The gentleman who enslaved you at the performance of the 'Messiah,' in your part of the world."
"Oh, sir! what can I ever say to you? I cannot bear it."