blades for the Prince and other nobles, I crossed the rugged Apennines
and went to Florence to see fine pieces of armor. From Livorno I went by
sea to Genoa, where I obtained chased gold and silverwork for shoulder-
belts and sheaths. Truth is truth the brown-skinned rascals can do fine
work. But the country--the country! Roland, my fore man--how any
sensible man can prefer it to ours is more than I understand."

"Holland is our mother," replied von Warmond. "As good sons we believe
her the best of women; yet we can admit, without shame, that there are
more beautiful ones in the world."

"Do you blow that trumpet too?" exclaimed the fencing-master, pushing
his glass angrily further upon the table. Did you ever cross the Alps?"

"No, but--"

"But you believe the color-daubers of the artist guild, whose eyes are
caught by the blue of the sky and sea, or the musical gentry who allow
themselves to be deluded by the soft voices and touching melodies there,
but you would do well to listen to a quiet man too for once."

"Go on, Captain."

"Very well. And if anybody can get an untruthful word out of me, I'll
pay his score till the Day of Judgment. I'll begin the story at the
commencement. First you must cross the horrible Alps. There you see
barren, dreary rocks, cold snow, wild glacier torrents on which no boat
can be used. Instead of watering meadows, the mad waves fling stones on
their banks. Then we reach the plains, where it is true many kinds of
plants grow. I was there in June, and made my jokes about the tiny