” She replied. She had looked forward to an explanation. Such a beautiful boy he is, but his intelligence is marginal. He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest daughter. And she felt that if she went home it was imperative to pay. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. 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. Love is a great thing, and happiness a joy.
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