It was about—a question of what I might do or might not do. 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. "Couldn't you speak to him?" "What?—and be insulted for my trouble? No, thank you!" "That is it. He may die. With nobody who cares … the both of us!" He was real in this moment.
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