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Page 64.

Rick thought maybe he'd get used to her look and even grow his own hair long—once he got the Army out of his hair, so to speak. They could be retro hippies—or maybe flippies (with the dolphins)—together at the Monterey Aquarium by the Pacific Ocean in California. That all seemed a long way off.

They were now driving through neat little neighborhoods on the outskirts of Echternach. Along either side of the painstakingly marked, two-lane Route de Luxembourg were the same sorts of perfect little white or gray stuccoed doll houses that one found in Lorraine and in Belgium. The typical house here had a bluish-gray slate roof with a steep pitch to repel rain or snow in season.

"I have to warn you," Romain said. "It's June, and we are here just in time for the famous dancing procession." He explained, "Echternach is a famous pilgrimage town with a great abbey and church. (*Endnotes #7) They make their way, jumping together while holding white handkerchiefs between them, to the abbey church for a Mass, as if they were being cured of St. Vitus' Dance by Saint Willibrord. That is basically the story, and we are just in time to get stuck in traffic as the downtown area gets shut down for hours."

"Oh great," Rick said.

"I love it when you are so sarcastic," Hannah said, pecking a kiss on his cheek. "And when you say things that are supposed to be a question but it's a sarcastic statement."

"Like now," Rick said. "You know where we are going."

"Right?" She laughed, imitating him. She stuck her arm through his and gave him an affectionate yank.

He responded with a squeeze and a weird face that made her laugh. Then he kissed her by the ear.

"I know basically my way," Romain said with a toss of his long, wavy hair. Sometimes his accent was more pronounced than at other times. "Oops, there we are. It is late in the day, and it should be coming to a close, but I think there are many thousands of pilgrims this year so it's running late into the afternoon."

Ahead was a barrier, staffed by several Grand Ducal police in white kepis, orange vests, and dark blue uniforms. They were armed like any cop in the United States, including holstered automatic sidearm on a black belt, plus handcuffs, spare rounds, and other equipment. Most wore a small communications device on their shoulder, close to the mouth for ease of access in an emergency. Several police cars with flashing red, blue, and white lights were parked in the way as well. A cute, tall brunette policewoman in leather jacket stepped forth on long legs clad in black motorcycle boots and riding trousers, to waggle a finger at them and point toward a parking area off to one side.

"We're stuck," Romain said. "Rather than get a ticket or be detained, let me just park this thing and we'll walk. It's not a very big city—just 5,000 people normally; now probably 15,000 with all the pilgrims."

Romain drove slowly in a tortuous row of cars, into a crowded parking lot near the River Sauer (Sûre). Straggling, uniformed band members with instruments sauntered past, as did nuns, priests, and other participants. Some carried signs to show their origins in Belgium, France, and Germany as well as Luxemburgish towns. Rick noticed names like Trier in Germany, Bastogne in Belgium, Thionville where they had been in France, and Gasperech in Luxembourg.

The music was played by dozens of marching bands from all over—always the same sort of jiggy, jumpy tune that repeated itself endlessly. They stood at the steel police barricades for a few moments and watched as hundreds and hundreds of pilgrims came jumping by. They held white handkerchiefs between them as they hopped from side to side in a rhythmic swaying motion to the music.

"Here begins also the Müllertal, or the Little Switzerland," Romain said. "There are some Roman ruins and a great Museum of Prehistory. Stone Age people lived here thousands of years ago during the last Ice Age. This is actually the oldest city in Luxembourg, predating Luxembourg City by several centuries. Like much of the region it was damaged in many wars, like Napoleon's in the early 1800s, and almost destroyed by the Germans during the Battle of the Bulge, but always rebuilt on the old model. We also just missed the well-known Echternach Music Festival, which every year features jazz and classical stars in the main square. And this is not too far from Trier across the border in Germany, which was a capital city of the Roman Empire—Augusta Treverorum. This whole area was a key part of the Roman Empire, and it has been a crossroad of civilization for a long time."

Hannah asked, "And why exactly is this called Little Switzerland?"

Romain shrugged. "A little bit of tourist marketing. Müllertal actually means Millers' Valley, probably because of the rapids on which they could use water wheels to grind corn; what you in English call maize? Or wheat I think? We don't have high mountains like the Swiss, just little ones. But you go climbing around there, up and down steep hills and terraces in the woods, and you must be a solid, experienced hiker or you'll be worn out in no time. The scenery is first-rate, with lots of steep cliffs and dark forests. It is actually a bit like hiking in the high Swiss meadows. For example, there is the Gorge du Loup, or Wolf Gorge, which is dark and mysterious. There used to be wolves around here over a century ago, by the way. Then there is the Schiessentümpel, or Shooting Pond, with a small triple waterfall shooting down amid dense green forest—and lots of interesting old castle ruins."

"Wow, so fascinating," Hannah said. "Where is the post office?"

Romain walked over to consult with the police, and returned in a few moments. "Right in the middle of town, I am afraid, on the Rue du Marché, or Market Street. It is closed until at least two in the afternoon."

"We should try Professor Sander's house," Hannah suggested.

"Good idea," Romain said.

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