"'Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, who openest the eyes of the blind.'"
"Oh, my poor Brum! Teach it me! Say the Hebrew again."
She repeated it till she could say it unprompted. And then throughout the journey her lips moved with it at odd times. It became a talisman—a compromise with the God who had failed her.
"Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, who openest the eyes of the blind."
XIII
Mountains were the great sensation of the passage through Switzerland. Brum had never seen a mountain, and the thought of being among the highest mountains in Europe was thrilling. Even Zillah's eyes could scarcely miss the mountains. She painted them in broad strokes. But they did not at all correspond to Brum's expectations of the Alps.
"Don't you see glaciers?" he asked anxiously.
"No," replied Zillah, but kept a sharp eye on the windows of passing chalets till the boy discovered that she was looking for glaziers at work.
"Great masses of ice," he explained, "sliding down very slowly, and glittering like the bergs in the Polar regions."
"No, I see none," she said, blushing.