She rose at once with a little exclamation, half of surprise, half of pleasure. They are not your flowers. ” She glanced out of the window, and the distant trees were a froth of hard spring green and almond blossom. Love stories! It was of negligible importance that these books were bound in paper; Romance lay unalterably within. 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.
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