Act III - Page 2

pleas in behalf of
Obenreizer, chance added one consideration more, when they came to Basle
after a journey of more than twice the average duration.

They had had a late dinner, and were alone in an inn room there,
overhanging the Rhine: at that place rapid and deep, swollen and loud.
Vendale lounged upon a couch, and Obenreizer walked to and fro: now,
stopping at the window, looking at the crooked reflection of the town
lights in the dark water (and peradventure thinking, "If I could fling
him into it!"); now, resuming his walk with his eyes upon the floor.

"Where shall I rob him, if I can? Where shall I murder him, if I must?"
So, as he paced the room, ran the river, ran the river, ran the river.

The burden seemed to him, at last, to be growing so plain, that he
stopped; thinking it as well to suggest another burden to his companion.

"The Rhine sounds to-night," he said with a smile, "like the old
waterfall at home. That waterfall which my mother showed to travellers
(I told you of it once). The sound of it changed with the weather, as
does the sound of all falling waters and flowing waters. When I was
pupil of the watchmaker, I remembered it as sometimes saying to me for
whole days, 'Who are you, my little wretch? Who are you, my little
wretch?' I remembered it as saying, other times, when its sound was
hollow, and storm was coming up the Pass: 'Boom, boom, boom. Beat him,
beat him, beat him.' Like my mother enraged--if she was my mother."

"If she was?" said Vendale, gradually changing his attitude to a sitting
one. "If she was? Why do you say 'if'?"

"What do I know?" replied the other negligently, throwing up his hands
and letting them fall as they would. "What would you have? I am so
obscurely born, that how can I say? I was very young, and all the rest
of the family were men and women, and my so-called parents were old.
Anything is possible of a case like that."

"Did you ever doubt--"

"I told you once, I doubt the marriage of those two," he replied,
throwing up his hands again, as if he were throwing the unprofitable
subject away. "But here I am in Creation. _I_ come of no fine family.
What does it matter?"

"At least you are Swiss," said Vendale, after following him with his eyes
to and fro.

"How do I know?" he retorted abruptly, and stopping to look back over his
shoulder. "I say to you, at least you are English. How do you know?"

"By what I have been told from infancy."

"Ah! I know of myself that way."

"And," added Vendale, pursuing the thought that he could not drive