But Herr Markov had called her at daylight and they were now again upon their way. Fra Umberto's legs were short but they moved rapidly and in the by-roads and in thinly settled places the thoughtful Markov invited Tanya to descend which she did gratefully, glad of the chance to loosen the kinks in her cramped muscles. And when she got down, the donkey, relieved of her weight in the vehicle, frisked along at a rate which showed her that they had lost no time.
They went through Landberg, passed the night in another farm-house on the Igling road and by the following afternoon had reached Memmingen.
It was beyond Memmingen upon the road to Weingarten that Tanya, waiting for the darkness to fall so that she could escape from her hiding place, heard Herr Markov exchanging greetings with a traveler afoot. This was not unusual, for Herr Markov, as she had already discovered, carried his politeness all about the world with him, but Tanya, who had been sitting long in her cramped position, had been hoping to be able to get out and walk beside her fellow pilgrim, for whom she had developed the deepest sympathy and appreciation. But this person to whom he had spoken, it seemed, was bound in the same direction as themselves and all immediate chance of escape from her prison was out of the question. She heard the deep boom of Herr Markov's voice and a reply, quiet and muffled as though at a distance.
"A fine evening--yes"--said Markov. "A rare evening indeed which makes one bless God for a life in the open under the stars. You are bound for Weingarten, Father, or beyond?"
"Beyond," replied the quiet voice.
"Ah, yes--to the monastery at Rothenbach, perhaps? No? You will forgive my impertinent curiosity, but the road is my life and those who walk it are my friends and companions. We are sociable people, Father, Fra Umberto and I, and since one of us is denied the privilege of speech, the other of us must needs make up for the deficiency. You will forgive my wagging tongue?"
"It is my mission in life to grant forgiveness," said the other voice solemnly. "It is my trade, Herr Musician."
Tanya understood now--a priest, a holy man, a vagrant monk.
"Then we are much of the same mind," continued Markov, "for I, too, have forgiven much--my trade too," with a deep laugh, "but there is little profit in it."
"Not to the body, but to the soul--it is that alone which is immortal."