‘Couldn’t reconcile it with my dooty to leave you here—’ A thought made Melusine stop dead, turning to him. To return was impossible,—to raise himself certain destruction. She had never experienced anything so disagreeable in her life as the sense of being held helplessly off her feet. She felt she must suffocate if these men did not put her down, and for a time they would not put her down. “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.
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