. . .
Yet the place to which we went was obviously one to which
Florence at least would have wanted to take us quite early, so that
you would almost think we should have gone there together at the
beginning of our intimacy. Florence was singularly expert as a
guide to archaeological expeditions and there was nothing she
liked so much as taking people round ruins and showing you the
window from which some one looked down upon the murder of
some one else. She only did it once; but she did it quite
magnificently. She could find her way, with the sole help of
Baedeker, as easily about any old monument as she could about
any American city where the blocks are all square and the streets
all numbered, so that you can go perfectly easily from
Twenty-fourth to Thirtieth.
Now it happens that fifty minutes away from Nauheim, by a good
train, is the ancient city of M----, upon a great pinnacle of basalt,
girt with a triple road running sideways up its shoulder like a
scarf. And at the top there is a castle--not a square castle like
Windsor, but a castle all slate gables and high peaks with gilt
weathercocks flashing bravely--the castle of St Elizabeth of
Hungary.
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