The astonishing Teuton erudition again! Gard had to marvel at it once more. This German was, by rare exception, ingratiating. They finally introduced themselves. Herr Furstenheimer of Wuerttemberg—a farmer. Gard concluded he did not dislike Germans of the south. Their temperaments, voices, manners, are somewhat softer than those of the north.
"I haven't been in Cologne in twenty years," Furstenheimer explained. "Just stopped off. I wonder if you—I see you too are a tourist—happen to be going my way. Excuse me, but that would be odd, wouldn't it?"
"Yes—I'm bound for Rotterdam."
"Rotterdam—- why so am I!" ejaculated the German in a happy moment. "I'm on my way to visit my sister there. I haven't seen her for years. It's really shameful. What train do you take?"
"The two o'clock. I wish you might be going along. One gets somewhat bored traveling alone."
"I'm the same way. I like company. I had intended going on to-night, but this Cologne one hears so much about is disappointingly dull, isn't it? Nothing to see." They conversed in German to Kirtley's linguistic satisfaction.
"But I'm stopping off at Aix-la-Chapelle," he had to say. "That's at four. Then I'm taking the late train."
"What is there at Aix? I don't remember."
"I want to see Charlemagne's tomb."
"Oh, so? That can't be duller than Cologne, can it? I don't see that I would be losing any time by it either. I'll tell you what I'll do. If I decide to join you—and I hope I shall—you'll see me at the two o'clock. But if I don't—well, Aufwiedersehen!—let us hope—and I am delighted to have met you."