loud voices were heard resounding in the streets; but all the passers-by were now accustomed to this; the exasperation of the dignitaries seemed quite natural, and no one took notice of it. Under the circumstances, a calm man would have been regarded as a monster.
Climbing the Belfry Tower
The burgomaster and the counselor, having reached the porch of the belfry, were in a paroxysm of fury. They were no longer red, but pale. This terrible discussion, though they had the same idea, had produced internal spasms and everyone knows that paleness shows that anger has reached its last limits.
At the foot of the narrow tower staircase there was a real explosion. Who should go up first? Who should first creep up the winding steps? Truth compels us to say that there was a tussle, and that the Counselor Niklausse, forgetful of all that he owed to his superior, to the supreme magistrate of the town, pushed van Tricasse violently back, and dashed up the staircase first.
Both ascended, denouncing and raging at each other at every step. It was to be feared that a terribel climax would occur on the summit of the tower, which rose three hundred and fifty-seven feet above the pavement.
The two enemies soon got out of breath, however, and in a little while, at the eightieth step, they began to move up heavily, breathing loud and short.
Then—was it because of their being out of breath?—their wrath subsided, or at least only betrayed itself by a succession of unseemly epithets. They became silent, and, strange to say, it seemed as if their excitement diminished as they ascended higher above the town. A sort of lull took place in their minds. Their brain became cooler, and simmered down like a coffee pot when taken away from the fire? Why?
A Lull in the Excitement
We cannot answer this "why"; but the truth is that, having reached a certain landing-stage, two hundred and sixty-feet above ground, the two adversaries sat down and, really more calm, looked at each other without any anger in their faces.
"How high it is!" said the burgomaster, passing his handkerchief over his rubicund face.
"Very high!" returned the counselor. "Do you known that we have gone fourteen feet higher than the Church of Saint Michael at Hamburg?"
"I know it," replied the burgomaster in a tone of vanity very pardonable in the chief magistrate of Quiquendone.
The two notabilities soon resumed their ascent, casting curious glances through the loopholes pierced in the tower walls. The burgomaster had taken the head of the procession, without any remark on the part of the counselor. It even happened that at about the three hundred and fourth step, van Tricasse being completely tired out, Niklausse kindly pushed him from behind. The burgomaster offered no resistance to this, and, when he reached the platform of the tower, said graciously: "Thanks, Niklausse; I will do the same for you one day."
A little while before it had been two wild beasts, ready to tear each other to pieces, who had presented themselves at the foot of the tower; it was now two friends who reached its summit.
The weather was superb. It was the month of May. The sun had absorbed all the vapors. What a pure and limpid atmosphere! The most minute objects over a broad space might be discerned. The walls of Virgamen, glistening in their whiteness,—its red, pointed roofs, its belfries shining in the sunlight—appeared a few miles off. And this was the town that was foredoomed to all the horrors of fire and pillage!
Peace Once More
The burgomaster and the counselor sat down beside each other on a small stone bench, like two worthy people whose souls were in close sympathy. As they recovered breath, they looked around; then after a brief silence: "How fine this is!" cried the burgomaster.
"Yes, it is admirable!" replied the counselor. "Does it not seem to you, my good van Tricasse, that humanity is destined to dwell rather at such heights, than to crawl about on the surface of our globe?"
"I agree with you, honest Niklausse," returned the burgomaster, "I agree with you. You seize sentiment better when you get clear of nature. You breathe it in every sense! It is at such heights that philosophers should be formed and that sages should live, above the miseries of this world!"
"Shall we go around the platform?" asked the counselor.
"Let us go around the platform," replied the burgomaster.
And the two friends, arm in arm, and putting, as formerly, long pauses between their questions and answers, examined every point of the horizon.
"It is at least seventeen years since I have ascended the belfry tower," said van Tricasse.
"I do not think I ever came up before," replied Niklausse; "and I regret it, for the view from this height is sublime! Do you see, my friend, the pretty stream of the Vaar, as it winds among the trees?"
"And, beyond, the heights of Saint Hermandad! How gracefully they shut in the horizon! Observe that border of green trees, which nature has so picturesquely arranged! Ah, nature, nature, Niklausse! Could the hand of man ever hope to rival her?"
"It is enchanting, my excellent friend," replied the counselor. "See the flocks and herds lying in the verdant pasture,—the oxen, the cows, the sheep!"
"And the laborers going to the fields! You would say they were Arcadian shepherds; they only want a bagpipe!"
"And over all this fertile country the beautiful blue sky, which no vapor dims! Ah, Niklausse, one might become a poet here! I do not understand why Saint Simeon Stylites was not one of the greatest poets of the world."
"It was because, perhaps, his column was not high enough,” replied the counselor with a gentle smile.
