"Then do not neglect the Tyrol. They call it the Austrian Tyrol, but it is really the only real Tyrol. Come to Innsbruck by the way of Zurich. That will bring you along the Waldersee, and so, too, you pass Castle Lichtenstein and come across the border at just beyond the ruins of Gräphang. You will see genuine mountains then, gigantic, snow-capped, with forests as dense as--as what you call a hairbrush--black, impenetrable. To the very tops of some the train climbs; it trembles over abysses. You look from the window of it down--down--down, a thousand feet, fifteen hundred, into valleys exquisite, with pink farmhouses or grey in them, the roofs weighted with large stones, the sides painted with crucifixes, or ornamented statues of the Blessed Virgin."
He loved his country and he made it vivid to her. He rambled on and on. Muriel became a more and more fascinated listener. It was not until two hours later that she thought, with a guilty start, of Jim.
She excused herself hastily and, leaving the Austrian bowing by the rail, ran to the close stateroom and her husband.
"Don't bother about me," muttered Stainton as she entered--"and _please_ don't bang the door!"
She considered him compassionately. His hair fell in disorder over his haggard face; his cheeks were faintly green.
"Can't I do something for you?" she asked, stepping forward.
Stainton failed in a smile, but feebly motioned her away.
"I am afraid not," said he--"unless you stop the ship. All I need is a little rest. You had better go back on deck. Really."
"A man spoke to me on deck," she breathlessly confessed. "An Austrian diplomat, I think he is. My rug blew, and he rearranged it. Do you mind?"
"Mind?" asked Stainton. "Certainly not.--How this boat pitches!--Talk to him, by all means. These things are common on shipboard, I believe."
Muriel was reassured. She returned to the deck, but von Klausen was not there, and she did not see him again until evening.
Then, though she still dutifully wished that Jim were with her, she found her appetite better than ever. She ventured upon a lonely cocktail. She ate some Blue Points. Captain von Klausen sent to her table, with his card, a pint of champagne, and she ordered potage Mogador, duckling balls with turnips, cèpes Provençals, sacher tart, and ice cream.