Hennetius? You cannot mean to go yet; you will
never arrive anywhere. In the name of Heaven stay here a little longer!'
"And Young would open the door and exclaim--
"'Look there, sir; you must be tired of your life to risk it among these
rocks. Why, the dove itself would be troubled to find the ark again in
such a mist as this.'
"One glance at the mountain side was enough for me to make up my mind to
put my stick back again in the corner.
"Walter Young was a man of the old times. He was nearly sixty; his grand
head wore a calm and benevolent expression--a real Apostle's head. His
wife, who always wore a black silk cap, pale and thoughtful, resembled
him much in disposition. Their two profiles, as I looked at them defined
sharply against the little panes of glass in the chalet's windows,
recalled to my mind those drawings of Albert Durer the sight of which
carried me back to the age of faith and the patriarchal manners of the
fifteenth century. The long brown rafters of the ceiling, the deal table,
the ashen chairs with the carved backs, the tin drinking-cups, the
sideboard with its old-fashioned painted plates and dishes, the crucifix
with the Saviour carved in box on an ebony cross, and the worm-eaten
clock-case with its many weights and its porcelain dial, completed the
illusion.
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