‘No!’ Melusine snapped as he tugged at the thing. There was no railway beyond Frutigen in those days; they sent their baggage by post to Kandersteg, and walked along the mule path to the left of the stream to that queer hollow among the precipices, Blau See, where the petrifying branches of trees lie in the blue deeps of an icy lake, and pine-trees clamber among gigantic boulders. Frequently he would take up a box of talc and send a shower down his back, or fill his palms with the powder and rub his face and arms and hands. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. It was obvious that he had waited for her. "Many thanks, Sir," replied Thornhill, with freezing politeness; "but Id not require assistance.
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