"And thee was right," said Mrs. Crowder, her eyes sparkling. "I believe
that at that time thee was the only monarch in the world who was worthy to
reign." And with a loyal pride, as if he had just stepped from a throne,
she put her hand upon his arm.

"Yes," said Mr. Crowder, "I honestly believe that I was a good monarch,
and I will admit that in those days such personages were extremely scarce.
So my imperial sway proceeded with no obstruction until I was informed
that Prince Galitzin was hastening to Moscow, on his return from his
estates, and was then within three days' journey of the capital. Now I
prepared to lay down the tremendous power which I had wielded with such
immense satisfaction to myself, and with such benefit, I do not hesitate
to say, to the people of Russia. The effects of my rule are still to be
perceived in some of the provinces of Russia, and decrees I made more than
two hundred years ago are in force in many villages along the eastern side
of the Volga.

"The day before Prince Galitzin was expected, I visited Sophia for the
last time. She was a great deal better, and much pleased by the expected
arrival of her minister. She even gave me some commands, but when I left
her I did not execute them. I would not have my reign sullied by any of
her mandates. That afternoon, in a royal sledge, with the royal
permission, given by myself, to travel where and how I pleased, I left
Moscow. Frequent relays of horses carried me rapidly beyond danger of
pursuit, and so, in course of time, I passed the boundaries of the empire
of Russia, over which for three weeks I had ruled, an absolute autocrat."

"Does thee know," said Mrs. Crowder, "that two or three times I expected
thee to say that thee married Sophia?"

Mr. Crowder laughed. "That is truly a wild notion," said he.

"I don't think it is wild at all," she replied. "In the course of thy life
thee has married a great many plain persons. In some ways that princess
would have suited thee as a wife, and if thee had really married her and
had become her royal consort, like Prince Albert, thee might have made a
great change in her. But, after all, it would have been a pity to
interfere with the reign of Peter the Great."




VI


"And what did thee do after thee got out of Russia?" asked Mrs. Crowder,
the next evening.

Her husband shook his head. "No, no, my dear; we can't go on with my
autobiography in that fashion. If I should take up my life step by step,
there would not be time enough--" There he stopped, but I am sure we both
understood his meaning. There would be plenty of time for him!

"Often and often," said Mr. Crowder, after a few minutes' silence, "have
I determined to adopt some particular profession, and continue its
practice wherever I might find myself; but in this I did not succeed very
well. Frequently I was a teacher, but not for many consecutive years.
Something or other was sure to happen to turn my energies into other
channels."

"Such as falling in love with thy scholars," said his wife.

"You have a good memory," he replied. "That sometimes happened; but there
were other reasons which turned me away from the paths of the pedagogue.
With my widely extended opportunities, I naturally came to know a good
deal of medicine and surgery. Frequently I had been a doctor in spite of
myself, and as far back as the days of the patriarchs I was called upon
to render aid to sick and ailing people.

"In the days when I lived in a cave and gained a reputation as a wise and
holy hermit, more people came to me to get relief from bodily ailments
than to ask for spiritual counsel. You will remember that I told you that
I was visited at that time by Moses and Joshua. Moses came, I truly
believe, on account of his desire to become acquainted with the prophet El
Khoudr, of whom he had heard so much; but Joshua wanted to see me for an
entirely different reason. The two remained with me for about an hour, and
although Moses had no belief in me as a prophet, he asked me a great many
questions, and I am sure that I proved to him that I was a man of a great
deal of information. He had a keen mind, with a quick perception of the
motives of others, and in every way was well adapted to be a leader of
men.

"When Moses had gone away to a tent about a mile distant, where he
intended to spend the night, Joshua remained, and as soon as his uncle was
out of sight, he told me why he wished to see me."

"His uncle!" exclaimed Mrs. Crowder.

"Certainly," said her husband; "Joshua was the son of Nun and of Miriam,
and Miriam was the sister of Moses and Aaron. What he now wanted from me
was medical advice. For some time he had been afflicted with rheumatism in
his left leg, which came upon him after exposure to the damp and cold.

"Now, this was a very important thing to Joshua. He was a great favorite
with Moses, who intended him, as we all know, to be his successor as
leader of the people and of the army. Joshua was essentially a soldier;
he was quiet, brave, and a good disciplinarian; in fact, he had all the
qualities needed for the position he expected to fill: but he was not
young, and if he should become subject to frequent attacks of rheumatism,
it is not likely that Moses, who had very rigid ideas of his duties to his
people, would be willing to place at their head a man who might at any
time be incapacitated from taking his proper place on the field of battle.
So Joshua had never mentioned his ailment to his uncle, hoping that he
might be relieved of it, and having heard that I was skilled in such
matters, now wished my advice.

"I soon found that his ailment was a very ordinary one, which might easily
be kept under control, if not cured, and I proceeded at once to apply
remedies. I will just mention that in those days remedies were generally
heroic, and I think you will agree with me when I tell you how I treated
Joshua. I first rubbed his aching muscles with fine sand, keeping up a
friction until his skin was in a beautiful glow. Then I brought out from
the back part of my cave, where I kept my medicines, a jar containing a
liniment which I had made for such purposes. It was composed of oil, in
which had been steeped the bruised fruit or pods of a plant very much
resembling the Tabasco pepper-plant."

"Whoop!" I exclaimed involuntarily.

"Yes," said Mr. Crowder, "and Joshua 'whooped' too. But it was a grand
liniment, especially when applied upon skin already excited by rubbing
with sand. He jumped at first, but he was a soldier, and he bore the
application bravely.

"I saw him again the next day, and he assured me with genuine pleasure
that every trace of the rheumatism had disappeared. I gave him some of my
liniment, and also showed him some of the little pepper pods, so that he
might procure them at any time in the future when he should need them.

"It was more than twenty years after this that I again met Joshua. He was
then an elderly man, but still a vigorous soldier. He assured me that he
had used my remedy whenever he had felt the least twinges of rheumatism,
and that the disease had never interfered with the performance of his
military duties.

"He was much surprised to see that I looked no older than when he had met
me before. He was greatly impressed by this, and talked a good deal about
it. He told me he considered himself under the greatest obligations to me
for what I had done for him, and as he spoke I could see that a hope was
growing within him that perhaps I might do something more. He presently
spoke out boldly, and said to me that as my knowledge of medicine had
enabled me to keep myself from growing old, perhaps I could do the same
thing for him. Few men had greater need of protecting themselves against
the advance of old age. His work was not done, and years of bodily
strength were necessary to enable him to finish it.

"But I could do nothing for Joshua in this respect. I assured him that my
apparent exemption from the effects of passing years was perfectly
natural, and was not due to drugs or medicaments.

"Joshua lived many years after that day, and did a good deal of excellent
military work; but his life was not long enough to satisfy him. He fell
sick, was obliged to give up his command to his relative Caleb, and
finally died, in his one hundred and twenty-eighth year."

"Which ought to satisfy him, I should say," said Mrs. Crowder.

"I have never yet met a thoroughbred worker," said Mr. Crowder, "who was
satisfied to stop his work before he had finished it, no matter how old he
might happen to be. But my last meeting with Joshua taught me a lesson
which in those days had not been sufficiently impressed upon my mind.
I became convinced that I must not allow people to think that I could live
along for twenty years or more without growing older, and after that
I gave this matter a great deal more attention than I had yet bestowed
upon it."

"It is a pity," said Mrs. Crowder, "that thy life should have been marred
by such constant anxiety."

"Yes," said he; "but this is a suspicious world, and it is dangerous for a
man to set himself apart from his fellow-beings, especially if he does it
in some unusual fashion which people cannot understand."

"But I hope now," said his wife, "that those days of suspicion are entirely
past."

Now the conversation was getting awkward; it could not be pleasant for any
one of us to talk about what the world of the future might think of Mr.
Crowder when it came to know all about him, and, appreciating this, my
host quickly changed the subject.

"There is a little story I have been wanting to tell you," said he,
addressing his wife, "which I think would interest you. It is a love-story
in which I was concerned."

"Oh!" said Mrs. Crowder, looking up quickly, "a scholar?"

"No," he answered; "not this time. Early in the fourteenth century I was
living at Avignon, in the south of France. At that time I was making my
living by copying law papers. You see, I was down in the world again."

Mrs. Crowder sighed, but said nothing.

"One Sunday morning I was in the Church of St. Claire, and, kneeling a
little in front of me, I noticed a lady who did not seem to be paying the
proper attention to her devotions. She fidgeted uneasily, and every now
and then she would turn her head a little to the right, and then bring it
back quickly and turn it so much in my direction that I could see the
profile of her face. She was a good-looking woman, not very young, and
evidently nervous and disturbed.

"Following the direction of her quick gaze when she again turned to the
right, I saw a young man, apparently not twenty-five years of age, and
dressed in sober black. He was also kneeling, but his eyes were
steadfastly fixed upon the lady in front of me, and I knew, of course,
that it was this continuous gaze which was disturbing her. I felt very
much disposed to call the attention of a priest to this young man who was
making one of the congregation unpleasantly conspicuous by staring at her;
but the situation was brought to an end by the lady herself, who suddenly
rose and went out of the church. She had no sooner passed the heavy
leathern curtain of the door than the young man got up and went out after
her. Interested in this affair, I also left the church, and in the street
I saw the lady walking rapidly away, with the young man at a respectful
distance behind her.

[Illustration: PETRARCH AND LAURA.]

"I followed on the other side of the street, determined to interfere if
the youth, so evidently a stranger to the lady, should accost her or annoy
her. She walked steadily on, not looking behind her, and doubtless hoping
that she was not followed. As soon as she reached another church she
turned and entered it. Without hesitation the young man went in after her,
and then I followed.

"As before, the lady knelt on the pavement of the church, and the young
man, placing himself not very far from her, immediately began to stare at
her. I looked around, but there was no priest near, and then I advanced
and knelt not very far from the lady, and between her and her persistent
admirer. It was plain enough that he did not like this, and he moved
forward so that he might still get a view of her. Then I also moved so as
to obstruct his view. He now fixed his eyes upon me, and I returned his
gaze in such a way as to make him understand that while I was present he
would not be allowed to annoy a lady who evidently wished to have nothing
to do with him. Presently he rose and went out. It was evident that he saw
that it was no use for him to continue his reprehensible conduct while
I was present.

"I do not know how the lady discovered that her unauthorized admirer had
gone away, but she did discover it, and she turned toward me for an
instant and gave me what I supposed was a look of gratitude.

"I soon left the church, and I had scarcely reached the street when
I found that the lady had followed me. She looked at me as if she would
like to speak, and I politely saluted her. 'I thank you, kind sir,' she
said, 'for relieving me of the importunities of that young man. For more
than a week he has followed me whenever I go to church, and although he
has never spoken to me, his steady gaze throws me into such an agitation
that I cannot think of my prayers. Do you know who he is, sir?'

"I assured her that I had never seen the youth before that morning, but
that doubtless I could find out all about him. I told her that I was
acquainted with several officers of the law, and that there would be no
difficulty in preventing him from giving her any further annoyance. 'Oh,
don't do that!' she said quickly. 'I would not wish to attract attention
to myself in that way. You seem to be a kind and fatherly gentleman. Can
you not speak to the young man himself and tell him who I am, and impress
upon his mind how much he is troubling me by his inconsiderate action?'

"As I did not wish to keep her standing in the street, we now walked on
together, and she briefly gave me the facts of the case.

"Her name was Mme. de Sade: she had been happily married for two years,
and never before had she been annoyed by impertinent attentions from any
one; but in some manner unaccountable to her this young student had been
attracted by her, and had made her the object of his attention whenever he
had had the opportunity. Not only had he annoyed her at church, but twice
he had followed her when she had left her house on business, thus showing
that he had been loitering about in the vicinity. She had not yet spoken
to her husband in the matter, because she was afraid that some quarrel
might arise. But now that the good angels had caused her to meet with such
a kind-hearted old gentleman as myself, she hoped that I might be able to
rid her of the young man without making any trouble. Surely this student,
who seemed to be a respectable person, would not think of such a thing as
fighting me."

"Thee must have had a very long white beard at that time," interpolated
Mrs. Crowder.

"Yes," said her husband; "I was in one of my periods of venerable age.

"I left Mme. de Sade, promising to do what I could for her, and as she
thanked me I could not help wondering why the handsome young student had
made her the object of his attention. She was a well-shaped, fairly
good-looking woman, with fair skin and large eyes; but she was of a grave
and sober cast of countenance, and there was nothing about her which
indicated the least of that piquancy which would be likely to attract the
eyes of a youth. She seemed to me to be exactly what she said she was--the
quiet and respectable lady of a quiet and respectable household.

"In the course of the afternoon I discovered the name and residence of the
young man, with whom I had determined to have an interview. His name was
Francesco Petrarca, an Italian by birth, and now engaged in pursuing his
studies in this place. I called upon him at his lodgings, and,
fortunately, found him at home. As I had expected, he recognized me at
once as the elderly person who had interfered with him at the church; but,
as I did not expect, he greeted me politely, without the least show of
resentment.

"I took the seat he offered me, and proceeded to deliver a lecture. I laid
before him the facts of the case, which I supposed he might not know, and
urged him, for his own sake, as well as for that of the lady, to cease his
annoying and, I did not hesitate to state, ungentlemanly pursuit of her.

"He listened to me with respectful attention, and when I had finished he
assured me that he knew even more about Mme. de Sade than I did. He was
perfectly aware that she was a religious and highly estimable lady, and he
did not desire to do anything which would give her a moment's sorrow.
'Then stop following her,' said I, 'and give up that habit of staring at
her in such a way as to make her the object of attention to everybody
around her.' 'That is asking too much,' answered Master Petrarca. 'That
lady has made an impression upon my soul which cannot be removed. My will
would have no power to efface her image from my constant thought. If she
does not wish me to do so, I shall never speak a word to her; but I must
look upon her. Even when I sleep her face is present in my dreams. She has
aroused within me the spirit of poetry; my soul will sing in praise of her
loveliness, and I cannot prevent it. Let me read to you some lines,' he
said, picking up a piece of manuscript which was lying on the table. 'It
is in Italian, but I will translate it for you.' 'No,' said I; 'read it as
it is written; I understand Italian.' Then he read the opening lines of a
sonnet which was written to Laura in the shadow. He read about six lines
and then stopped.

"'It is not finished,' he said, 'and what I have written does not
altogether satisfy me; but you can judge from what you have heard how it
is that I think of that lady, and how impossible it is that I can in any
way banish her from my mind, or willingly from my vision.'

"'How did you come to know that her name is Laura?' I asked. 'I found it
out from the records of her marriage,' he answered.

"I talked for some time to this young man, but failed to impress him with
the conviction that his conduct was improper and unworthy of him. I found
means to inform Mme. de Sade of the result of my conversation with
Petrarch,--as we call his name in English,--and she appeared to be
satisfied that the young student would soon cease his attentions, although
I myself saw no reason for such belief.

"I visited the love-lorn young man several times, for I had become
interested in him, and endeavored to make him see how foolish it was--even
if he looked upon it in no other light--to direct his ardent affections
upon a lady who would never care anything about him, and who, even if
unmarried, was not the sort of woman who was adapted to satisfy the lofty
 affection which his words and his verses showed him to possess.

"'There are so many beautiful women,' said I, 'any one of whom you might
love, of whom you might sing, and to whom you could indite your verses.
She would return your love; she would appreciate your poetry; you would
marry her and be happy all your life.'

"He shook his head. 'No, no, no,' he said. 'You don't understand my
nature.

"'Marriage would mean the cares of a house--food, fuel, the mending of
clothes, a family--all the hard material conditions of life. No, sir! My
love soars far above all that. If it were possible that Laura should ever
be mine I could not love her as I do. She is apart from me; she is above
me. I worship her, and for her I pour out my soul in song. Listen to
this,' and he read me some lines of an unfinished sonnet to Laura in the
sunlight. 'She was just coming from a shaded street into an open place
I saw her, and this poem came into my heart.'

"About a week after this I was very much surprised to see Petrarch walking
with his Laura, who was accompanied by her husband. The three were very
amicably conversing. I joined the party, and was made acquainted with
M. de Sade, and after that, from time to time, I met them together,
sometimes taking a meal with them in the evening.

"I discovered that Laura's husband looked upon Petrarch very much as any
ordinary husband would look upon an artist who wished to paint portraits
of his wife.

"I lived for more than a year in Avignon with these good people, and I am
not ashamed to say that I never ceased my endeavors to persuade Petrarch
to give up his strange and abnormal attentions to a woman who would never
be anything to him but a vision in the distance, and who would prevent him
from living a true and natural life with one who would be all his own. But
it was of no use; he went on in his own way, and everybody knows the
results.

"Now, just think of it," continued Mr. Crowder. "Suppose I had succeeded
in my honest efforts to do good; think of what the world would have lost.
Suppose I had induced Petrarch not to come back to Avignon after his
travels; suppose he had not settled down at Vaucluse, and had not spent
three long years writing sonnets to Laura while she was occupied with the
care of her large family of children; suppose, in a word, that I had been
successful in my good work, and that Petrarch had shut his eyes and his
heart to Laura; suppose--"

"I don't choose to suppose anything of the kind," said Mrs. Crowder. "Thee
tried to do right, but I am glad thee did not deprive the world of any of
Petrarch's poetry. But now I want thee to tell us something about ancient
Egypt, and those wonderfully cultivated people who built pyramids and
carved hieroglyphics. Perhaps thee saw them building the Temple of the Sun
at Heliopolis."

Mr. Crowder shook his head. "That was before my time," said he.

This was like an electric shock to both of us. If we had been more
conversant with ancient chronology we might have understood, but we were
not so conversant.

"Abraham! Isaac! Moses!" ejaculated Mrs. Crowder. "Thee knew them all, and
yet Egypt was civilized before thy time! Does thee mean that?"

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Crowder. "I am of the time of Abraham, and when he was
born the glories of Egypt were at their height."

"It is difficult to get these things straight in one's mind," said Mrs.
Crowder. "As thee has lived so long, it seems a pity that thee was not
born sooner."

"I have often thought that," said her husband; "but we should all try to
be content with what we have. And now let us skip out of those regions of
the dusky past. I feel in the humor of telling a love-story, and one has
just come into my mind."

"Thee is so fond of that sort of thing," said his wife, with a smile,
"that we will not interfere with thee."

"In the summer of the year 950," said Mr. Crowder, "I was traveling, and
had just come over from France into the province of Piedmont, in northern
Italy. I was then in fairly easy circumstances, and was engaged in making
some botanical researches for a little book which I had planned to write
on a medical subject. I will explain to you later how I came to do a great
deal of that sort of thing.

"Late upon a warm afternoon I was entering the town of Ivrea, and passing
a large stone building, I stopped to examine some leaves on a bush which
grew by the roadside. While I was doing this, and comparing the shape and
size of the leaves with some drawings I had in a book which I took from my
pocket, I heard a voice behind me and apparently above me. Some one was
speaking to me, and speaking in Latin. I looked around and up, but could
see no one; but above me, about ten or twelve feet from the ground, there
was a long, narrow slit of a window such as is seen in prisons. Again
I heard the voice, and it said to me distinctly in Latin, 'Are you free to
go where you choose?' It was the voice of a woman.

"As I wished to understand the situation better before I answered, I went
over to the other side of the road, where I could get a better view of the
window. There I saw behind this narrow opening a part of the face of a
woman. This stone edifice was evidently a prison. I approached the window,
and standing under it, first looking from side to side to see that no one
was coming along the road, I said in Latin, 'I am free to go where
I choose.'

"Then the voice above said, 'Wait!' but it spoke in Italian this time. You
may be sure I waited, and in a few minutes a little package dropped from
the window and fell almost at my feet. I stooped and picked it up. It was
a piece of paper, in which was wrapped a bit of mortar to give it weight.

"I opened the paper and read, written in a clear and scholarly hand, these
words: 'I am a most unfortunate prisoner. I believe you are an honest and
true man, because I saw you studying plants and reading from a book which
you carry. If you wish to do more good than you ever did before, come to
this prison again after dark.'

"I looked up and said quickly, in Italian, 'I shall be here.' I was about
to speak again and ask for some more definite directions, but I heard the
sound of voices around a turn in the road, and I thought it better to
continue my walk into the town.

"That night, as soon as it was really dark, I was again at the prison.
I easily found the window, for I had noted that it was so many paces from
a corner of the building; but there was no light in the narrow slit, and
although I waited some time, I heard no voice. I did not dare to call, for
the prisoner might not be alone, and I might do great mischief.

"My eyes were accustomed to the darkness, and it was starlight. I walked
along the side of the building, examining it carefully, and I soon found a
little door in the wall. As I stood for a few moments before this door, it
suddenly opened, and in front of me stood a big soldier. He wore a wide hat
and a little sword, and evidently was not surprised to see me. I thought it
well, however, to speak, and I said: 'Could you give a mouthful of supper
to a--'

"He did not allow me to finish my sentence, but putting his hand upon my
shoulder, said gruffly: 'Come in. Don't you waste your breath talking
about supper.' I entered, and the door was closed behind me. I followed
this man through a stone passageway, and he took me to a little stone room.
''Wait here!' he said, and he shut me in. I was in pitch-darkness, and had
no idea what was going to happen next. After a little time I saw a streak
of light coming through a keyhole; then an inner door opened, and a young
woman with a lamp came into the room."

"Now does the love-story begin?" asked his wife.

"Not yet," said Mr. Crowder. "The young woman looked at me, and I looked
at her. She was a pretty girl with black eyes. I did not express my
opinion of her, but she was not so reticent. 'You look like a good old
man,' she said. 'I think you may be trusted. Come!' Her speech was
provincial, and she was plainly a servant. I followed her. 'Now for the
mistress,' said I to myself."

"Thee may have looked like an old man," remarked Mrs. Crowder, "but thee
did not think like one."

Her husband laughed. "I mounted some stone steps, and was soon shown into
a room where stood a lady waiting for me. As the light of the lamp carried
by the maid fell upon her face, I thought I had never seen a more
beautiful woman. Her dress, her carriage, and her speech showed her to be
a lady of rank. She was very young, scarcely twenty, I thought.

"This lady immediately began to ask me questions. She had perceived that
I was a stranger, and she wanted to know where I came from, what was my
business, and as much as I could tell her of myself. 'I knew you were a
scholar,' she said, 'because of your book, and I believe in scholars.'
Then briefly she told me her story and what she wanted of me.

"She was the young Queen Adelheid, the widow of King Lothar, who had
recently died, and she was then suffering a series of harsh persecutions
from the present king, Berengar II, who in this way was endeavoring to
force her to marry his son Adalbert. She hated this young man, and
positively refused to have anything to do with him.

"This charming and royal young widow was bright, intelligent, and had a
mind of her own; it was easy to see that. She had formed a scheme for her
deliverance, and she had been waiting to find some one to help her carry
it out. Now, she thought I was the man she had been looking for. I was
elderly, apparently respectable, and she had to trust somebody.

"This was her scheme. She was well aware that unless some powerful friend
interfered in her behalf she would be obliged to marry Adalbert, or remain
in prison for the rest of her life, which would probably be unduly
shortened. Therefore she had made up her mind to appeal to the court of
the Emperor Otto I of Germany, and she wanted me to carry a letter to him.

"I stood silent, earnestly considering this proposition, and as I did so
she gazed at me as if her whole happiness in this world depended upon my
decision. I was not long in making up my mind on the subject. I told her
that I was willing to help her, and would undertake to carry a letter to
the emperor, and I did not doubt, from what I had heard of this noble
prince, that he would come to her deliverance. But I furthermore assured
her that the moment it became known that the emperor was about to
interfere in her behalf, she would be in a position of great danger, and
would probably disappear from human sight before relief could reach her.
In that prison she was utterly helpless, and to appeal for help would be
to bring down vengeance upon herself. The first thing to do, therefore,
was to escape from this prison, and get to some place where, for a time at
least, she could defend herself against Berengar, while waiting for Otto
to take her under his protection.

"She saw the force of my remarks, and we discussed the matter for half an
hour, and when I left--being warned by the soldier on guard, who was in
love with the queen's black-eyed maid, that it was time for me to
depart--it was arranged that I should return the next night and confer
with the fair Adelheid.

"There were several conferences, and the unfaithful sentinel grumbled a
good deal. I cannot speak of all the plans and projects which we
discussed, but at last one of them was carried out. One dark, rainy night
Adelheid changed clothes with her maid, actually deceived the guard--not
the fellow who had admitted me--with a story that she had been sent in
great haste to get some medicine for her royal mistress, and joined me
outside the prison.

"There we mounted horses I had in readiness, and rode away from Ivrea. We
were bound for the castle of Canossa, a strong-hold of considerable
importance, where my royal companion believed she could find refuge, at
least for a time. I cannot tell you of all the adventures we had upon that
difficult journey. We were pursued; we were almost captured; we met with
obstacles of various kinds, which sometimes seemed insurmountable; but at
last we saw the walls of Canossa rising before us, and we were safe.

"Adelheid was very grateful for what I had done, and as she had now
learned to place full reliance upon me, she insisted that I should be
the bearer of a letter from her to the Emperor Otto. I should not travel
alone, but be accompanied by a sufficient retinue of soldiers and
attendants, and should go as her ambassador.

"The journey was a long and a slow one, but I was rather glad of it, for
it gave me an opportunity to ponder over the most ambitious scheme I have
ever formed in the whole course of my life."

"Greater than to be autocrat of all the Russias?" exclaimed Mrs. Crowder.

"Yes," he replied. "That opportunity came to me suddenly, and I accepted
it; I did not plan it out and work for it. Besides, it could be only a
transitory thing. But what now occupied me was a grand idea, the good
effects of which, if it should be carried out, might endure for centuries.
It was simply this:

"I had become greatly attached to the young queen widow whose cause I had
espoused. I had spent more than a month with her in the castle at Canossa,
and there I learned to know her well and to love her. She was, indeed, a
most admirable woman and charming in every way. She appeared to place the
most implicit trust in me; told me of all her affairs, and asked my
opinion about almost everything she proposed to do. In a word, I was in
love with her and wanted to marry her."

"Thee certainly had lofty notions; but don't think I object," said Mrs.
Crowder. "It is Chinese and Tartars I don't like."

"It might seem at first sight," he continued, "that I was aiming above me,
but the more I reflected the more firmly I believed that it would be very
good for the lady, as well as for me. In the first place, she had no
reason to expect a matrimonial union worthy of her. Adalbert she had every
reason to despise, and there was no one else belonging to the riotous
aristocratic factions of Italy who could make her happy or give her a
suitable position. In all her native land there was not a prince to whom
she would not have to stoop in order to marry him.

"But to me she need not stoop. No man on earth possessed a more noble
lineage. I was of the house of Shem, a royal priest after the order of
Melchizedek, and King of Salem! No line of imperial ancestry could claim
precedence of that."

Mrs. Crowder looked with almost reverent awe into the face of her husband.
"And that is the blood," she said, "which flows in the veins of our
child?"

"Yes," said he; "that is the blood."

After a slight pause Mr. Crowder continued: "I will now go on with my tale
of ambition. A grand career would open before me. I would lay all my plans
and hopes before the Emperor Otto, who would naturally be inclined to
assist the unfortunate widow; but he would be still more willing
to do so when I told him of the future which might await her if my plans
should be carried out. As he was then engaged in working with a noble
ambition for the benefit of his own dominions, he would doubtless be
willing to do something for the good of lands beyond his boundaries. It
ought not to be difficult to convince him that there could be no wiser, no
nobler way of championing the cause of Adelheid than by enabling me to
perform the work I had planned.

"All that would be necessary for him to do would be to furnish me with a
moderate military force. With this I would march to Canossa; there I would
espouse Adelheid; then I would proceed to Ivrea, would dethrone the wicked
Berengar, would proclaim Adelheid queen in his place, with myself as king
consort; then, with the assistance and backing of the imperial German,
I would no doubt soon be able to maintain my royal pretensions. Once
self-supporting, and relying upon our Italian subjects for our army and
finances, I would boldly re-establish the great kingdom of Lombardy, to
which Charlemagne had put an end nearly two hundred years before. Then
would begin a grand system of reforms and national progress.

"Pavia should be my capital, but the beneficent influence of my rule
should move southward. I would make an alliance with the Pope; I would
crush and destroy the factions which were shaking the foundations of
church and state; I would still further extend my power--I would become
the imperial ruler of Italy, with Adelheid as my queen!

"Over and over again I worked out and arranged this grand scheme, and when
I reached the court of the Emperor Otto it was all as plain in my mind as
if it had been copied on parchment.

"I was very well received by the emperor, and he read with great interest
and concern the letter I had brought him. He gave me several private
audiences, and asked me many questions about the fair young widow who had
met with so many persecutions and misfortunes. This interest greatly
pleased me, but I did not immediately submit to him my plan for the relief
of Adelheid and the great good of the Italian nation. I would wait a
little; I must make him better acquainted with myself. But the imperial
Otto did not wait. On the third day after my arrival I was called into his
cabinet and informed that he intended to set out himself at the head of an
army; that he should relieve the unfortunate lady from her persecutions
and establish her in her rights, whatever they might prove to be. His
enthusiastic manner in speaking of his intentions assured me that I need
not trouble myself to say one word about my plans.

"Now,--would you believe it?--that intermeddling monarch took out of my
hands the whole grand, ambitious scheme I had so carefully devised. He
went to Canossa; he married Adelheid; he marched upon Berengar; he
subjugated him and made him his vassal; he formed an alliance with Pope
John XII; he was proclaimed King of the Lombards; he was crowned with his
queen in St. Peter's; he eventually acquired the southern portion of
Italy. All this was exactly what I had intended to do."

Mrs. Crowder laughed. "In one way thee was served quite right, for thee
made all thy plans without ever asking the beautiful young ex-queen
whether she would have thee or not."

In the tones of this fair lady's voice there were evident indications of
mental relief. "And what did thee do then?" she asked. "I hope thee got
some reward for all thy faithful exertions."

"I received nothing at the time," Mr. Crowder replied; "and as I did not
care to accompany the emperor into Italy, for probably I would be
recognized as the man who had assisted Adelheid to escape from the prison
at Ivrea, and as I was not at all sure that the emperor would remember
that I needed protection, I thought it well to protect myself, and so
I journeyed back into France as well as I could.

"This was not very well; for in purchasing the necessary fine clothes
which I deemed it proper to wear in the presence of the royal lady whose
interests I had in charge, in buying horses, and in many incidental
expenses, I had spent my money. I was too proud to ask Otto to reimburse
me, for that would have been nothing but charity on his part; and of
course I could not expect the fair Adelheid to think of my possible
financial needs. So, away I went, a poor wanderer on foot, and the
imperial Otto rode forward to love, honor, and success."

"A dreadful shame!" exclaimed Mrs. Crowder. "It seems as if thee always
carried a horn about with thee so that thee might creep out of the little
end of it."

"But my adventures with Adelheid did not end here," he said. "About fifty
years after this she was queen regent in Italy, during the infancy of her
grandchild Otto III. Being in Rome, and very poor, I determined to go to
her, not to seek for charity, but to recall myself to her notice, and to
boldly ask to be reimbursed for my expenses when assisting her to escape
from Ivrea, and in afterward going as her ambassador to Otto I. In other
words, I wanted to present my bill for enabling her to take her seat upon
the throne of the 'Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation.'

"As a proof that I was the man I assumed to be, I took with me a ring of
no great value, but set with her royal seal, which she had given me when
she sent me to Otto.

"Well, I will not spend much time on this part of the story. By means of
the ring I was accorded an interview with the regent. She was then an old
woman over seventy years of age. When I introduced myself to her and told
her my errand, she became very angry. 'I remember very well,' she said,
'the person you speak of, and he is long since dead. He was an old man
when I took him into my service. You may be his son or some one else who
has heard how he was employed by me. At any rate, you are an impostor.
How did you come into possession of this ring? The man to whom I gave it
had no right to keep it. He should have returned it to me when he had
performed his duties.'

"I tried to convince her that there was no reason to suppose that the man
who had assisted her could not be living at this day. He need only be
about one hundred years old, and that age was not uncommon. I affirmed
most earnestly that the ring had never been out of my possession, and that
I should not have come to her if I had not believed that she would
remember my services, and be at least willing to make good the
considerable sums I had expended in her behalf.

"Now she arose in royal wrath. 'How dare you speak to me in that way!' she
said. 'You are a younger man at this moment than that old stranger you
represent yourself to be.' Then she called her guards and had me sent to
prison as a cheat and an impostor. I remained in prison for some time, but
as no definite charge was made against me, I was not brought to trial, and
after a time was released to make room for somebody else. I got away as
soon as I could, and thus ended my most ambitious dream."




VII


"Now, my dear," said Mr. Crowder, regarding his wife with a tender kindness
which I had frequently noticed in him, "just for a change, I know you
would like to hear of a career of prosperity, wouldn't you?"

"Indeed, I would!" said Mrs. Crowder. "You will have noticed," said her
husband, "that there has been a great deal of variety in my vocations; in
fact, I have not mentioned a quarter of the different trades and callings
in which I have been engaged. It was sometimes desirable and often
absolutely necessary for me to change my method of making a living, but
during one epoch of my life I steadily devoted myself to a single
profession. For nearly four hundred years I was engaged almost
continuously in the practice of medicine. I found it easier for me, as a
doctor, to change my place of residence and to appear in a new country
with as much property as I could carry about with me, than if I had done
so in any other way. A prosperous and elderly man coming as a stranger
from a far country would, under ordinary circumstances, be regarded with
suspicion unless he were able to give some account of his previous career.
But a doctor from a far country was always welcome; if he could cure
people of their ailments they did not ask anything about the former
circumstances of his life. It was perfectly natural for a learned man to
travel."

"Did thee regularly study and go to college?" asked Mrs. Crowder, "or was
thee a quack?"

"Oh, I studied," said her husband, smiling, "and under the best masters.
I had always a fancy for that sort of thing, and in the days of the
patriarchs, when there were no regular doctors, I was often called upon,
as I told you."

"Oh, yes," said his wife; "thee rubbed Joshua with gravel and pepper."

"And cured him," said he, "You ought not to have omitted that. But it was
not until about the fifth century before Christ that I thought of really
studying medicine. I was in the island of Cos, where I had gone for a very
queer reason. The great painter Apelles lived there, and I went for the
purpose of studying art under him. I was tired of most of the things I had
been doing, and I thought it would be a good idea to become a painter.
Apelles gave me no encouragement when I applied to him; he told me I was
entirely too old to become a pupil. 'By the time you would really know how
to paint,' said he, 'supposing you have any talent for it, you ought to be
beginning to arrange your affairs to get ready to die.' Of course this
admonition had no effect upon me, and I kept on with my drawing lessons.
If I could not become a painter of eminence, I thought that at least
I might be able, if I understood drawing, to become a better
schoolmaster--if I should take up that profession again.

"One day Apelles said to me, after glancing at the drawing on which I was
engaged: 'If you were ten years younger you might do something in the
field of art, for you would make an excellent model for the picture I am
about to begin. But at your present age you would not be able to sustain
the fatigue of remaining in a constrained position for any length of
time.' 'What is the subject?' I asked. 'A centurion in battle,' said he.

"The next day I appeared before Apelles with my hair cropped short and my
face without a vestige of a beard. 'Do I look young enough now to be your
model?' said I. The painter looked at me in surprise. 'Yes,' said he, 'you
look young enough; but of course you are the same age as you were
yesterday. However, if you would like to try the model business, I will
make some sketches of you.'

"For more than a month, nearly every day, I stood as a model to Apelles
for his great picture of a centurion whose sword had been stricken from
his hand, and who, in desperation, was preparing to defend himself against
his enemy with the arms which nature had given him."

"Is that picture extant?" I asked.

Mr. Crowder smiled. "None of Apelles's paintings are in existence now," he
answered. "While I was acting as model to Apelles--and I may remark that
I never grew tired of standing in the position he desired--I listened with
great satisfaction to the conversations between him and the friends who
called upon him while he was at work. The chief of these was Hippocrates,
the celebrated physician, between whom and Apelles a strong friendship
existed.

"Hippocrates was a man of great common sense. He did not believe that
diseases were caused by spirits and demons and all that sort of thing, and
in many ways he made himself very interesting to me. So, in course of
time, after having visited him a good deal, I made up my mind to quit the
study of art and go into that of medicine.

"I got on very well, and after a time I practiced with him in many cases,
and he must have had a good deal of confidence in me, for when the King of
Persia sent for him to come to his court, offering him all sorts of
munificent rewards, Hippocrates declined, but he suggested to me that
I should go.

"'You look like a doctor,' said he. 'The king would have confidence in you
simply on account of your presence; and, besides, you do know a great deal
about medicine.' But I did not go to Persia, and shortly after that I left
the island of Cos and gave up the practice of medicine. Later, in the
second century before Christ, I made the acquaintance of a methodist
doctor--"

"A what?" Mrs. Crowder and I exclaimed at the same moment.

He laughed. "I thought that would surprise you, but it is true."

"Of course it is true," said his wife, coloring a little. "Does thee think
I would doubt anything thee told me? If thee had said that Abraham had a
Quaker cook, I would have believed it."

"And if I had told you that," said Mr. Crowder, "it would have been so.
But to explain about this methodist doctor. In those days the physicians
were divided into three schools: empirics, dogmatists, and methodists.
This man I speak of--Asclepiades--was the leading methodist physician,
depending, as the name suggests, upon regular methods of treatment instead
of experiments and theories adapted to the particular case in hand.

"He also was a man of great good sense, and was very witty besides. He made
a good deal of fun of other physicians, and used to call the system of
Hippocrates 'meditation on death.' I studied with him for some time, but it
was not until the first century of the present era that I really began the
practice of my profession. Then I made the acquaintance of the great
Galen. He was a man who was not only a physician, but an accomplished
surgeon, and this could be said of very few people in that age of the
world. I studied anatomy and surgery under him, and afterward practiced
with him as I had done with Hippocrates.

"The study of anatomy was rather difficult in those days, because the
Roman laws forbade the dissection of citizens, and the anatomists had to
depend for their knowledge of the human frame upon their examinations of
the bodies of enemies killed in battle, or those of slaves, in whom no
one took an interest; but most of all upon the bodies of apes. Great
numbers of these beasts were brought from Africa solely for the use of
the Roman surgeons, and in that connection I remember an incident which
was rather curious.

"I had not finished my studies under Galen when that great master one day
informed me that a trader had brought him an ape, which had been confined
in a small building near his house. He asked me to go out and kill it and
have it brought into his dissecting-room, where he was to deliver a
lecture to some students.

"I started for the building referred to. On the way I was met by the
trader. He was a vile-looking man, with black, matted hair and little
eyes, who did not look much higher in intelligence than the brutes he
dealt in. He grinned diabolically as he led me to the little house and
opened the door. I looked in. There was no ape there, but in one corner
sat a dark-brown African girl. I looked at the man in surprise. 'The ape
I was to bring got away from me,' he said, 'but that thing will do a great
deal better, and I will not charge any more for it than for the ape. Kill
it, and we will put it into a bag and carry it to the doctor. He will be
glad to see what we have brought him instead of an ape.'

"I angrily ordered the man to leave the place, and taking the girl by the
arm,--although I had a good deal of trouble in catching her,--I led her to
Galen and told him the story."

"And what became of the poor thing?" asked Mrs. Crowder.

"Galen bought her from the man at the price of an ape, and tried to have
her educated as a servant, but she was a wild creature and could not be
taught much. In some way or other the people in charge of the amphitheater
got possession of her, and I heard that she was to figure in the games at
an approaching great occasion. I was shocked and grieved to hear this, for
I had taken an interest in the girl, and I knew what it meant for her to
take part in the games in the arena. I tried to buy her, but it was of no
use: she was wanted for a particular purpose. On the day she was to appear
in the arena I was there."

"I don't see how thee could do it," said Mrs. Crowder, her face quite
pale.

"People's sensibilities were different in those days," said her husband.
"I don't suppose I could do such a thing now. After a time she was brought
out and left entirely alone in the middle of the great space. She was
nearly frightened to death by the people and the fear of some unknown
terror. Trembling from head to foot, she looked from side to side, and at
last sank crouching on the ground. Everybody was quiet, for it was not
known what was to happen next. Then a grating sound was heard, with the
clank of an iron door, and a large brown bear appeared in the arena. The
crouching African fixed her eyes upon him, but did not move.