“But why?” we sternly demand.
“You will be more comfortable, madame.”
“We do not wish to be comfortable.”
“You will arrive at midnight.”
“We like to arrive at midnight.”
What then could the spiders do with flies who retorted in this unheard-of-way, who resisted advice, would telegraph for horses, cheer the postilions with absurdly frequent Trink Geld, and push steadily on to St. Moritz high in the upper Engadine?
The truly remarkable feature of the expedition was, that when we left Chur in the morning it was only with a lazy consciousness that up among the mountains somewhere was a St. Moritz, which we at some indefinite time would reach.
Innkeeper No. 1 made us think we would like to go through in one day.
Innkeeper No. 2 strengthened the wish.
No. 3, by his efforts at discouragement, gave us, in place of the wish, a determination to go on.