Chapter 2

"My nobiel liege! all my request
Ys for a nobile knyghte,
Who, tho' mayhap he has done wronge,
Hee thoughte ytt stylle was righte."

Chatterton.

While this impudent evasion of vigilance was successfully practised by so
old an offender, the trio of sentinels, with their volunteer assistant the
pilgrim, manifested the greatest anxiety to prevent the contamination of
admitting the highest executioner of the law to form one of the strangely
assorted company. No sooner did the Genevese permit a traveller to pass,
than they commenced their private and particular examination, which was
sufficiently fierce, for more than once had they threatened to turn back
the trembling, ignorant applicant on mere suspicion. The cunning Baptiste
lent himself to their feelings with the skill of a demagogue, affecting a
zeal equal to their own, while, at the same time, he took care most to
excite their suspicions where there was the smallest danger of their being
rewarded with success. Through this fiery ordeal one passed after another,
until most of the nameless vagabonds had been found innocent, and the
throng around the gate was so far lessened as to allow a freer circulation
in the thoroughfare. The opening permitted the venerable noble, who has
already been presented to the reader, to advance to the gate, accompanied
by the female, and closely followed by the menials. The servitor of the
police saluted the stranger with deference, for his calm exterior and
imposing presence were in singular contrast with the noisy declamation
and rude deportment of the rabble that had preceded.

"I am Melchior de Willading, of Berne," said the traveller, quietly
offering the proofs of what he said, with the ease of one sure of his
impunity; "this is my child--my only child," the old man repeated the
latter words with melancholy emphasis, "and these, that wear my livery,
are old and faithful followers of my house. We go by the St. Bernard, to
change the ruder side of our Alps for that which is more grateful to the
weak--to see if there be a sun in Italy that hath warmth enough to revive
this drooping flower, and to cause it once more to raise its head
joyously, as until lately, it did ever in its native halls."

The officer smiled and repeated his reverences, always declining to
receive the offered papers; for the aged father indulged the overflowing
of his feelings in a manner that would have awakened even duller
sympathies.

"The lady has youth and a tender parent of her side," he said; "these are
much when health fails us."

"She is indeed too young to sink so early!" returned the father, who had
apparently forgotten his immediate business, and