’ She eyed him, all her uncertainty surfacing. Very fascinating, though, trying to analyse the impulse. "Are you a poltroon, after all?" "That's it! I ought to have died that night!" "Or is there a taint of insanity in your family history? Alone and practically penniless like yourself! You weren't even stirred by gratitude. I kicked the living shit out of him. But I can tell you who'll have the pleasure of hanging your father's son; and that's a person not a hundred miles distant from you at this moment—ha! ha!" As he said this, the door was opened, and Charcam entered, accompanied by a dwarfish, shabby-looking man, in a brown serge frock, with coarse Jewish features, and a long red beard. 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. It would surely be only common politeness to drop her a hint—a fellow countrywoman too. She was instinctively aware of him as she had been of Julian. Her mind wandered back to that fateful day. She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man. The lips were straight and pale, the chin aggressive, the nose indomitable.
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