All her life Martha had been there. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. Somewhere you may stumble upon a clew to his identity. 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. Here and there, a rectangular patch, darker than the rest, showed that some had been removed. He had the air of a man who has said too much. They had been married for well over one hundred years. Rousing himself, he went to the door. What had actually beaten him was not to have known if someone had picked up his trail. “Who from?” She met his eye for a second and her heart failed her.
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