The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. ‘She didn’t behave in the least like an émigré, if these people are anything to go by. For all the enervating heat, he applied himself vigorously to his tasks. For what indeed does she do? A simple song, no gesture, no acting, nothing. 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.
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