"Ah! wait till we come to Mont Blanc."
Mont Blanc was an obsession; his geography was not minute enough to know that the route did not pass within sight of it. He had expected it to dominate Switzerland as a cathedral spire dominates a little town.
"Mont Blanc is 15,784 feet above the sea," he said voluptuously. "Eternal snow is on its top, but you will not see that, because it is above the clouds."
"It is, then, in Heaven," said Zillah.
"God is there," replied Brum gravely, and burst out with Coleridge's lines from his school-book:—
"'God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations,
Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!
God! sing ye meadow-streams with gladsome voice!
Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds!
And they, too, have a voice, yon piles of snow,
And in their perilous fall shall thunder God!'"
"Who openest the eyes of the blind," murmured Zillah.
"There are five torrents rushing down, also," added Brum. "'And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad.' You'll recognize Mont Blanc by that. Don't you see them yet, mother?"
"Wait, I think I see them coming."
Presently she announced Mont Blanc definitely; described it with glaciers and torrents and its top reaching to God.