a voice, too, he had! like the grunt of a bear mostly.

Now don't you think it strange that this face should be the same,
actually the same as the face of my enemy, slain that very day ten years
ago? I did not hate him, either that man or the baron, but I wanted to
see as little of him as possible, and I hoped that the ceremony would
soon be over, and that I should be at liberty again.

And so with these thoughts and many others, but all thought strangely
double, we went along, the varlet being too drunk to take much notice of
me, only once, as he was singing some doggrel, like this, I think, making
allowances for change of language and so forth:

The Duke went to Treves
On the first of November;
His wife stay'd at Bonn--
Let me see, I remember;

When the Duke came back
To look for his wife,
We came from Cologne,
And took the Duke's life;

We hung him mid high
Between spire and pavement,
From their mouths dropp'd the cabbage
Of the carles in amazement.

"Boo--hoo! Church rat! Church mouse! Hilloa, Priest! have you brought
the pyx, eh?"