"He has been here for many years," resumed Paul Léon. "I remember him for such a long time, and I have been coming for twenty years."
"And I now for ten," concluded Jean Morel. "I was one of the first here."
"He seems always to have lived in this furnished room. The lady of the house was very fond of him; she and her daughter are mourning below."
"He was poor, was he not?" asked Paul Léon.
"Yes, poor," replied the German, "a very humble professor; for relations he had one brother and some nephews. We have sent them a telegram."
They were again silent. Frau von Scheidegg entered discreetly. She carried a great mass of fresh flowers. Approaching the circle of the four men, she said quietly:
"Two ladies, friends of the Herr Professor, sent them—the Misses Ford and James. I will place the flowers at his feet."
Advancing, and after crossing herself and saying a short prayer, the old German woman deposited the mass of fresh flowers on the quilt, where the two marble feet of the defunct raised the silken fabric a little, on those feet which had taken their last steps, and which would never more impress their tread on the grass of the high meadows, and amidst the dust of the broken rocks. Then she crossed herself again, and left.
"Do you think, von Raabe, that the brother will come to fetch him away?"
"No," replied a different voice. "No, he will not go away."