I replied in the affirmative, and we sallied forth together.
I walked on silently, revolving my companion's last sentence, and voting it terribly harsh, yet not liking to draw him into any discussion of it, as I felt instinctively that we viewed life through different media.
He led the way through a narrow gloomy street, overhung by the upper stories of the houses, and garnished with a species of gallery, to which these projections served as a roof.
"There," said he, pausing, "is the old residence of the Bishops of ——, and a very curious building it is."
I looked with great interest at the heavy carved gables, adorned with royal and episcopal arms, and divided into compartments containing carved representations of Adam and Eve, a tree and a serpent, all of equal dimensions, Cain and Abel, Balaam and his Ass, Abraham, in trunk hose, about to sacrifice Isaac on a small reading desk, with various other specimens of carving. The wooden pillars supporting the fabric over the gallery I have mentioned were carved and twisted into the most grotesque and awsome shapes, which only some tortured spirit could have imagined!
"This alone is worth a visit," said I, after a long and curious gaze. "What may be the age of this building?"
"That is not easy to say. The initials on that centre scutcheon, 'J. R.,' you see, would lead us to suppose it was not older than the beginning of the seventeenth century, but it has always appeared to me that these letters and the coat of arms they surmount are of a more modern date than the other ornaments on the building or the building itself; but though I have searched some old chronicles I cannot satisfy myself on the subject."
"At all events it shall be No. 1 of my sketches. Have you no favourite theory as to its date?" I asked.
"No, I always endeavour to curb imagination."