"Also in this valley that you say is full of flowers?"
"Yes, dear Lilian."
"And you have given these beautiful flowers to many other women, haven't you?" she continued, looking at him, with a shade of melancholy in her glance.
"What does it matter?" he exclaimed, with a vivacious nod, as if to abolish the past.
"You have forgotten them all," she concluded, without looking at him, as if she were talking to herself.
"You are different, Lilian," he said.
She believed him at once and smiled at him, herself desirous of dispersing the cloud of sadness which had passed over their souls.
"Have you ever climbed to the top of one of those mountains? Have you climbed the Monte Bernina, dear? Tell me everything, please."
"I climbed two or three times, Lilian, when I was younger, bolder, and less lazy; not right to the Bernina, dear, but to the Diavolezza beneath the Bernina."