The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. 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. But you—you have a good face. “For great passions, for great accomplishments. To lose was death, quickly and mercilessly delivered. Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly. They are their mother’s sons. The tide'll bring him to us fast enough.
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