SEELCHEN. And father has hurt his foot. For guide, there is only
Mans Felsman.
LAMOND. The celebrated Felsman?
SEELCHEN. [Nodding; then looking at him with admiration] Are you that Herr Lamond who has climbed all our little mountains this year?
LAMOND. All but that big fellow.
SEELCHEN. We have heard of you. Will you not wait a day for father's foot?
LAMOND. Ah! no. I must go back home to-morrow.
SEELCHEN. The gracious Sir is in a hurry.
LAMOND. [Looking at her intently] Alas!
SEELCHEN. Are you from London? Is it very big?
LAMOND. Six million souls.