“I noticed him call her attention to us as we passed down the room,” he answered. “One day,” he resumed, “we will start off early and come down into Kandersteg and up these zigzags and here and here, and so past this Daubensee to a tiny inn—it won’t be busy yet, though; we may get it all to ourselves—on the brim of the steepest zigzag you can imagine, thousands of feet of zigzag; and you will sit and eat lunch with me and look out across the Rhone Valley and over blue distances beyond blue distances to the Matterhorn and Monte Rosa and a long regiment of sunny, snowy mountains. I don’t think we’re altogether to blame if we don’t take some of your lot seriously. The next moment his grasp relaxed, and he sank to rise no more.
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