"I have no self. It seems so selfish to have one. I am anything—a fay, a sprite, an elf." She freed her hands with a sudden twist and ran laughing up the mountain.
"To the sunrise!" she cried. "To the sunrise!"
He gave chase: "To the sunrise! To the symbol!"
X
But the next morning the symbolic sunrise they rose to see was hidden by fog and rain.
And—what was still more disappointing to Lassalle—Mrs. Arson insisted on escaping with her charges from this depressing climate and re-descending to Wabern, the village near Berne, where they had been staying.
Not even Lassalle's fascinations and persuasions could counteract the pertinacious plash-plash of-the rain, and the chilling mist, and perhaps the uneasy pricks of her awakening chaperon-conscience. Nor could he extract a decisive "Yes" from his fluttering volatile enchantress. At Kaltbad, where they said farewell, he pressed her hands with passion. "For a little while! Be prudent and strong! You have the goodness of a child—and a child's will. Oh, if I could pour into these blue veins"—he kissed them fiercely—"only one drop of my giant's will, of my Titanic energy. Grip my hands; perhaps I can do it by magnetism. I will to join our lives. You must will too. Then there are no difficulties. Only say 'Yes'—but definitely, unambiguously, of your own free will—and I answer for the rest."
The thought of Janko resurged painfully when his giant's will was left behind on the heights. How ill she would be using him—her pretty delicate boy!
The giant's will left behind her? Never had Helene been more mistaken. The very reverse! It went before her all day like a pillar of fire. At the first stopping-place a letter already awaited her, brought by a swift courier; lower down a telegram; as she got off her horse another letter; at her hotel two copious telegrams; as she stepped on board the lake steamer a final letter—all breathing passion, encouragement, solicitous instructions to wrap up well.