She silently willed him to
stop his pacing, to calm down. The cry was echoed by
twenty different voices. It was in her eyes—the big thing that comes
but once. “I’m just in time to say good-bye before I go, father. I will be as silent as the grave. “You are of the genus obstinate,” he said. He delayed the blow till the
fortunate conjuncture was past. She had pushed
aside her azure veil, taken off her snow-glasses, and sat smiling under her hand
at the shining glories—the lit cornices, the blue shadows, the softly rounded,
enormous snow masses, the deep places full of quivering luminosity—of the
Taschhorn and Dom. Teacher returned, and with her the casual sense of
146
order. It gave her joy to see them
laughing, even though she was unsure of what she had
done wrong.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 25-06-2024 11:47:52