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. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. Did you grow up at the Valade estates? You were born a Valade, I take it, even though your father is English. Capes?” she heard her aunt saying.
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