“To begin with, I was—I was in the divorce court. “One day,” he resumed, “we will start off early and come down into Kandersteg and up these zigzags and here and here, and so past this Daubensee to a tiny inn—it won’t be busy yet, though; we may get it all to ourselves—on the brim of the steepest zigzag you can imagine, thousands of feet of zigzag; and you will sit and eat lunch with me and look out across the Rhone Valley and over blue distances beyond blue distances to the Matterhorn and Monte Rosa and a long regiment of sunny, snowy mountains. But let the horses be in readiness. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. “Go on!” she commanded. He resented being regarded as irregular. He would make her rub her lips with waxes and other ointments, precursors of lipsticks. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise.
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