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How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. She got out of bed, her eyes still half-closed, and stood slack jawed. I don’t believe any one could have traced us here. “It couldn’t be. \"I'll have to call and tell Cathy. “One day,” he resumed, “we will start off early and come down into Kandersteg and up these zigzags and here and here, and so past this Daubensee to a tiny inn—it won’t be busy yet, though; we may get it all to ourselves—on the brim of the steepest zigzag you can imagine, thousands of feet of zigzag; and you will sit and eat lunch with me and look out across the Rhone Valley and over blue distances beyond blue distances to the Matterhorn and Monte Rosa and a long regiment of sunny, snowy mountains. He accepted the glass of wine, and bowed. After all—’ ‘Yes, but I do not wish to see him,’ Melusine protested. Still —there you are!” He paused.

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