He even
saw me off when I left by the north-bound train.
Leaning moodily forward, I looked again from the window and wished I
might hurry the creaking, grinding revolution of the wheels. We were
climbing higher and higher among the mountains. The chestnuts, growing
scanter, were replaced by dark firs and pines. Streams came winding down
like icy crystal threads; the little rivers we crossed looked blue and
glacial; pale-pink roses and mountain flowers showed themselves as we
approached the peaks. A polite official, entering, examined our papers;
and with snow surrounding us and cold clear air blowing in at the
window, we left Bardonnecchia, the last of the frontier towns.
I was speeding toward France; but where was the girl of the _Re
d'Italia_? To what dubious rendezvous, what haunt of spies, had she
hurried, once ashore? The thought of her stung my vanity almost beyond
endurance. She had pleaded with me that night, swayed against me
trustingly, appealed to me as to a chivalrous gentleman and, having
competently pulled the wool over my eyes, had laughed at me in her
sleeve.
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