"I shall; and many other artist bits, I have ever longed to be so placed as to be able to do so."
"Lionel, have you ever tasted the Alpine trout? To me they are excellent."
"Yes, frequently, and always with an appetite. Their home is in a lake 8,290 feet above the sea level."
"No wonder Roland Douglas has spoken so highly of them," said Vaura gaily; "their relations of the sea are quite under-bred. What stupendous pieces of work the mountain passes are," she continued; "I wonder, could Hannibal see them, what he would think of dynamite versus vinegar, to blast rocks with."
"Or poor, untiring Napoleon and his weary soldiers," said Lady
Esmondet.
"What men there were in the bygone," said Lionel with twice our strength, twice our endurance; we are weary; though making the run cushion at back, stimulant in hand."
"We want backbone; our spinal column has given way, by reason of our fore-fathers' energy," said Vaura, laughingly.
"We certainly could manage an extra backbone very well," said her god-mother; "ah! what strength I had, when I journeyed South in seventy-five, I remember we went by rail from Bale to Milan, via the St. Gotthard road; words are lifeless in describing the scenery along this route, being grandly, magnificent; one winds in and out among the mountains; at times in gazing out the coach windows, one's breath is a prayer, one trembles so at the terrific peaks soaring up and up so far above one."