From that city we hoped to
go to Strasburg, and thence through Lorraine to Burgundy, but we found
no caravan bound in that direction. Our sojourn at Cannstadt exhausted
the money we got for our journeys from Augsburg and Ulm, and we were
compelled, much against our will, to accept an offer of service with one
Master Franz, a silk merchant of Basel, who was about to journey
homeward. His caravan would pass through the Black Forest; perhaps the
most dangerous country in Europe for travellers.
Knowing the perils ahead of us, I engaged two stout men-at-arms, and
late in February we started for Basel as bodyguard to good Master Franz.
Think of the heir of Hapsburg marching in the train of a Swiss merchant!
Max dared not think of it; he was utterly humiliated!
Our first good fortune at Muhldorf he looked on as the deepest
degradation a man might endure, but he could not starve, and he would
not beg. Not once did he even think of returning to Styria, and, in
truth, he could not have done so had he wished; our bridges were burned
behind us; our money was spent.
By the time we had finished half our journey to Basel, Max liked the
life we were leading, and learned to love personal liberty, of which he
had known so little. Now he could actually do what he wished. He could
even slap a man on the back and call him "comrade." Of course, if the
process were reversed,--if any one slapped Max on the back,--well,
dignity is tender and not to be slapped.
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