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see it in the morning； she would notice the removal of the clock； and
would make a merit of reporting its ruin by the heat to the landlord； and
in the end they would be mulcted of its value。 Rather than suffer this
wrong they agreed to restore it to its place； and； let it go to
destruction upon its own terms。 March painfully rebuilt it where he had
found it； and they went to bed with a bad conscience to worse dreams。
He remembered； before he slept； the hour of his youth when he was in
Mayence before； and was so care free that he had heard with impersonal
joy two young American voices speaking English in the street under his
window。 One of them broke from the common talk with a gay burlesque of
pathos in the line：
〃Oh heavens！ she cried； my Heeding country save！〃
and then with a laughing good…night these unseen； unknown spirits of
youth parted and departed。 Who were they； and in what different places；
with what cares or ills； had their joyous voices grown old； or fallen
silent for evermore？ It was a moonlight night； March remembered； and he
remembered how he wished he were out in it with those merry fellows。
He nursed the memory and the wonder in his dreaming thought； and he woke
early to other voices under his window。 But now the voices； though
young； were many and were German； and the march of feet and the stamp of
hooves kept time with their singing。 He drew his curtain and saw the
street filled with broken squads of men； some afoot and some on
horseback； some in uniform and some in civil dress with students' caps；
loosely straggling on and roaring forth that song whose words he could
not make out。 At breakfast he asked the waiter what it all meant； and he
said that these were conscripts whose service had expired with the late
manoeuvres； and who were now going home。 He promised March a translation
of the song； but he never gave it； and perhaps the sense of their joyful
home…going remained the more poetic with him because its utterance
remained inarticulate。
March spent the rainy Sunday； on which they had fallen； in wandering
about the little city alone。 His wife said she was tired and would sit
by the fire； and hear about Mayence when he came in。 He went to the
cathedral； which has its renown for beauty and antiquity； and he there
added to his stock of useful information the fact that the people of
Mayence seemed very Catholic and very devout。 They proved it by
preferring to any of the divine old Gothic shrines in the cathedral； an
ugly baroque altar； which was everywhere hung about with votive
offerings。 A fashionably dressed young man and young girl sprinkled
themselves with holy water as reverently as if they had been old and
ragged。 Some tourists strolled up and down the aisles with their red
guide…books； and studied the objects of interest。 A resplendent beadle
in a cocked hat； and with along staff of authority posed before his own
ecclesiastical consciousness in blue and silver。 At the high altar a
priest was saying mass； and March wondered whether his consciousness was
as wholly ecclesiastical as the beadle's； or whether somewhere in it he
felt the historical majesty； the long human consecration of the place。
He wandered at random in the town through streets German and quaint and
old； and streets French and fine and new； and got back to the river；
which he crossed on one of the several handsome bridges。 The rough river
looked chill under a sky of windy clouds； and he felt out of season； both
as to the summer travel； and as to the journey he was making。 The summer
of life as well as the summer of that year was past。 Better return to
his own radiator in his flat on Stuyvesant Square； to the great ugly
brutal town which； if it was not home to him； was as much home to him as
to any one。 A longing for New York welled up his heart； which was
perhaps really a wish to be at work again。 He said he must keep this
from his wife； who seemed not very well； and whom he must try to cheer up
when he returned to the hotel。
But they had not a very joyous afternoon； and the evening was no gayer。
They said that if they had not ordered their letters sent to Dusseldorf
they believed they should push on to Holland without stopping； and March
would have liked to ask； Why not push on to America？ But he forbore； and
he was afterwards glad that he had done so。
In the morning their spirits rose with the sun； though the sun got up
behind clouds as usual； and they were further animated by the imposition
which the landlord practised upon them。 After a distinct and repeated
agreement as to the price of their rooms he charged them twice as much；
and then made a merit of throwing off two marks out of the twenty he had
plundered them of。
〃Now I see；〃 said Mrs。 March； on their way down to the boat； 〃how
fortunate it was that we baked his clock。 You may laugh； but I believe
we were the instruments of justice。〃
〃Do you suppose that clock was never baked before？〃 asked her husband。
〃The landlord has his own arrangement with justice。 When he overcharges
his parting guests he says to his conscience； Well； they baked my clock。〃
LXXI。
The morning was raw； but it was something not to have it rainy； and the
clouds that hung upon the hills and hid their tops were at least as fine
as the long board signs advertising chocolate on the river banks。 The
smoke rising from the chimneys of the manufactories of Mayence was not so
bad； either； when one got them in the distance a little； and March liked
the way the river swam to the stems of the trees on the low grassy
shores。 It was like the Mississippi between St。 Louis and Cairo in that；
and it was yellow and thick； like the Mississippi； though he thought he
remembered it blue and clear。 A friendly German； of those who began to
come aboard more and more at all the landings after leaving Mayence；
assured him that be was right； and that the Rhine was unusually turbid
from the unusual rains。 March had his own belief that whatever the color
of the Rhine might be the rains were not unusual； but he could not
gainsay the friendly German。
Most of the passengers at starting were English and American； but they
showed no prescience of the international affinition which has since
realized itself； in their behavior toward one another。 They held
silently apart； and mingled only in the effect of one young man who kept
the Marches in perpetual question whether he was a Bostonian or an
Englishman。 His look was Bostonian； but his accent was English； and was
he a Bostonian who had been in England long enough to get the accent； or
was he an Englishman who had been in Boston long enough to get the look？
He wore a belated straw hat； and a thin sack…coat； and in the rush of the
boat through the raw air they fancied him very cold； and longed to offer
him one of their superabundant wraps。 At times March actually lifted a
shawl from his knees； feeling sure that the stranger was English and that
he might make so bold with him； then at some glacial glint in the young
man's eye； or at some petrific expression of his delicate face； he felt
that he was a Bostonian； and lost courage and let the shawl sink again。
March tried to forget him in the wonder of seeing the Germans begin to
eat and drink； as soon as they came on boards either from the baskets
they had brought with them； or from the boat's provision。 But he
prevailed； with his smile that was like a sneer； through all the events
of the voyage； and took March's mind off the scenery with a sudden wrench
when he came unexpectedly into view after a momentary disappearance。 At
the table d'hote； which was served when the landscape began to be less
interesting； the guests were expected to hand their plates across the
table to the stewards but to keep their knives and forks throughout the
different courses； and at each of these partial changes March felt the
young man's chilly eyes upon him； inculpating him for the semi…
civilization of the management。 At such times he knew that he was a
Bostonian。
The weather cleared； as they descended the river； and under a sky at last
cloudless； the Marches had moments of swift reversion to their former
Rhine journey； when they were young and the purple light of love mantled
the vineyarded hills along the shore； and flushed the castled steeps。
The scene had lost nothing of the beauty they dimly remembered； there
were certain features of it which seemed even fairer and grander than
they remembered。 The town of Bingen； where everybody who knows the poem
was more or less born； was beautiful in spite of its factory chimneys；
though there were no compensating castles near it； and the castles seemed
as good as those of the theatre。 Here and there some of them had been
restored and were occupied； probably by robber barons who had gone into
trade。 Others were still ruinous； and there was now and then such a mere
gray snag that March； at sight of it； involuntarily put his tongue to the
broken tooth which he was keeping for the skill of the first American
dentist。
For natural sublimity the Rhine scenery； as they recognized once more；
does not compare with the Hudson scenery