At that hour the people who made excursions were already far away, and those who meant to do nothing stayed nearer to Pontresina.

She grew tired of the road after a time.

It led straight to the foot of the glacier, and she was not attracted by snow and ice as northern people are; there was something repellent to her in the thought of the bleakness and cold, and the sunshine itself looked as hard as the distant peaks on which it fell.

But on the right there were rocky spurs of the mountains, half covered with short trees and brilliant with wild flowers that grew in little natural gardens here and there, not far below the level of perpetual snow.

She left the road, and began to climb where there was no path.