I must report another occurrence.
On the very last morning, Richard had succeeded in plucking a large bunch of edelweiss. He was coming down the mountain where the wagon was waiting for us. Just then another wagon arrived, and in it was Annette with her maid.
Richard offered the flowers to Annette.
"Were you thinking of me when you plucked them?" she asked.
"To be truthful, I was not."
"Thanks for the flowers--and for your honesty."
"I did not know, when plucking them, for whom they were; but I am glad to know that now they are yours."
"Thanks; you are always candid."
We continued our journey. On the way, Richard said, "Our cousin, the Baroness, is quite a new character; she ought to be called 'the watering-place widow.' She travels from one watering-place to another, wears mourning or half-mourning, is quite interesting, and always has a crowd buzzing around her. It were a great pity if Annette were to turn out in the same way."
I replied, "If she were to marry, which indeed, were greatly to be desired, she would no longer be 'the watering-place widow.'"