It never seems to enter their heads to try and amuse their menkind. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. But all this business has driven it clean out of my head. ‘I find you excessively rude. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. Until the age of five she adored him. Life! Life and love! It makes me want to be always young, always strong, always devoting my life—and dying splendidly. The end of the world seemed at hand.
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