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A short distance farther is an ancient manor house dating from the fourteenth century. Its name Barneston is said to perpetuate a Saxon landholder, Berne, so that the foundations of the house are far older than this period.
I am sure that you have heard of us, and of all we have done and seen from Edgeworthstown as far as Berne: from thence we went to Thun: there we took char-a-bancs, little low carriages, like half an Irish jaunting car, with four wheels, and a square tarpaulin awning over our heads.
I found the poor rascal, as the doctor had said, incapable of motion. He had only the use of his tongue and his eyes. "You are in a pretty state," said I to him. "I am very ill, sir, though otherwise I feel quite well." "I expect so, but as it is you can't move, and I want to dine at Berne the day after to-morrow." "Have me carried there, I shall get cured."
There are bears on its gates, bears on its fountains, bears in its parks and gardens, bears every where. But, though Berne rejoices in a fountain adorned with an image of Saturn eating children, nevertheless, the old city quaint, quiet, and queer looks as if, bear-like, it had been hybernating good-naturedly for a century, and were just about to wake up. Engaged a voiture, and drove to Thun.
"I understand that, judge," Berne said; and, without answering Hastings, turned squarely to Wilton: "But it's a thin clue. He admits Russell lost a nail-file, too." "Several years ago," Hastings goaded, so that Webster pivoted on his heel to face him; "you lost yours when? last night? this morning?" "I don't know! I noticed its absence this morning." "There you are!
When I went upstairs, they stayed a long time in the library, talking. "I think they decided the best thing for Berne was to stay on here, through yesterday and today, in the hope that he and father might change my mind. Father tried to, yesterday morning. He was awfully upset. That's one reason he's so worn out and sick today. I love my father so, Mr. Hastings!"
Siegstab, the Duke of Berne, then spake: "Now hath come to an end the cheer, that Rudeger did give us after our days of dole. The joy of all wayfaring folk lieth slain by you, sir knights." Then spake the Knight Wolfwin of the Amelungs: "And I saw mine own father dead to-day, I should not make greater dole, than for his death. Alas, who shall now comfort the good margrave's wife?"
Mademoiselle de G was a young lady of Berne, very amiable; who, having been sent from that country for some youthful folly, had imitated Madam de Warrens, at whose house I had sometimes seen her; but not having, like her, a pension, she had been fortunate in this attachment to Mademoiselle Galley, who had prevailed on her mother to engage her young friend as a companion, till she could be otherwise provided for.
"Last night when I was at the coffee-house, Count Scarnafis dared to say that France subsidised the Berne newspapers. I told him he lied, at which he rose and left the place in a rage, giving me a glance the meaning of which is not doubtful. I followed him to bring him to reason or to give him satisfaction; but he would do nothing and I suspect he went to the police to complain.
Episcopal dignity would not suffer him to play the beggar, or solicit help from private individuals; but we presented his commission to the Senate, who gave him a trifling sum. From thence we went to Berne, where we lodged at the Falcon, then a good inn, and frequented by respectable company; the public table being well supplied and numerously attended.
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