amy in the wrong. This may be Stoller's way of wiping out an
obligation. Wouldn't you like to go with him?"

"The mere thought of his being in the same town is prostrating. I'd far
rather he hated us; then he would avoid us."

"Well, he doesn't own the town, and if it comes to the worst, perhaps we
can avoid him. Let us go out, anyway, and see if we can't."

"No, no; I'm too tired; but you go. And get all the maps and guides
you can; there's so very little in Baedeker, and almost nothing in that
great hulking Bradshaw of yours; and I'm sure there must be the most
interesting history of Wurzburg. Isn't it strange that we haven't the
slightest association with the name?"

"I've been rummaging in my mind, and I've got hold of an association at
last," said March. "It's beer; a sign in a Sixth Avenue saloon window
Wurzburger Hof-Brau."

"No matter if it is beer. Find some sketch of the history, and we'll
try to get away from the Stollers in it. I pitied those wild girls, too.
What crazy images of the world must fill their empty minds! How their
ignorant thoughts must go whirling out into the unknown! I don't envy
their father. Do hurry back! I shall be thinking about them every
instant till you come."

She said this, but in their own rooms it was so soothing to sit looking
through the long twilight at the lovely landscape that the sort
of bruise given by their encounter with the Stollers had left her
consciousness before March returned. She made him admire first the
convent church on a hill further up the river which exactly balanced the
fortress in front of them, and then she seized upon the little books he
had brought, and set him to exploring the labyrinths of their German,
with a mounting exultation in his discoveries. There was a general guide
to the city, and a special guide, with plans and personal details of the
approaching manoeuvres and the princes who were to figure in them;
and there was a sketch of the local history: a kind of thing that the
Germans know how to write particularly, well, with little gleams of
pleasant humor blinking through it. For the study of this, Mrs. March
realized, more and more passionately, that they were in the very most
central and convenient point, for the history of Wurzburg might be
said to have begun with her prince-bishops, whose rule had begun in
the twelfth century, and who had built, on a forgotten Roman work, the
fortress of the Marienburg on that vineyarded hill over aga