th, he would climb by himself. That, anyway, everyone admitted,
was dangerous. And it would be her fault. She would be sorry then. He
would get up, and be off before dawn; he put his things out ready, and
filled his flask. The moonlight that evening was more wonderful than
ever, the mountains like great ghosts of themselves. And she was up
there at the hut, among them! It was very long before he went to sleep,
brooding over his injuries--intending not to sleep at all, so as to be
ready to be off at three o'clock. At NINE o'clock he woke. His wrath
was gone; he only felt restless and ashamed. If, instead of flying out,
he had made the best of it, he could have gone with them as far as the
hut, could have stayed the night there. And now he cursed himself for
being such a fool and idiot. Some little of that idiocy he could,
perhaps, retrieve. If he started for the hut at once, he might still be
in time to meet them coming down, and accompany them home. He swallowed
his coffee, and set off. He knew the way at first, then in woods lost
it, recovered the right track again at last, but did not reach the hut
till nearly two o'clock. Yes, the party had made the ascent that
morning--they had been seen, been heard jodelling on the top. Gewiss!
Gewiss! But they would not come down the same way. Oh, no! They would
be going home down to the West and over the other pass. They would be
back in house before the young Herr himself.

He heard this, oddly, almost with relief. Was it the long walk alone, or
being up there so high? Or simply that he was very hungry? Or just
these nice friendly folk in the hut, and their young daughter with her
fresh face, queer little black cloth sailor hat with long ribbons, velvet
bodice, and perfect simple manners; or the sight of the little
silvery-dun cows, thrusting their broad black noses against her hand?
What was it that had taken away from him all his restless feeling, made
him happy and content? . . . He did not know that the newest thing
always fascinates the puppy in its gambols! . . . He sat a long while
after lunch, trying to draw the little cows, watching the sun on the
cheek of that pretty maiden, trying to talk to her in German. And when
at last he said: "Adieu!" and she murmured "Kuss die Hand. Adieu!" there
was quite a little pang in his heart. . . . Wonderful and queer is the
heart of a man! . . . For all that, as he neared home he hastened, till
he was actuall