Therefore she waited in patience.

It was still winter at Innspruck, though the calendar declared it to be spring.

April was budless and cold, a month of storms; the snow drifted deep along the streets and M.
Chateaudoux was much inconvenienced during his promenades in the afternoon.

He would come back with most reproachful eyes for Clementina in that she so stubbornly clung to her vagabond exile and refused so fine a match as the Prince of Baden.

On the afternoon of the 25th, however, Clementina read more than reproach in his eyes, more than discomfort in the agitation of his manner.