Our stay in Paris was drawing to a close. It was with much regret that we had to bring our delightful visit to an end. As we had plenty of time to spare before the beginning of the Italian manœuvres, it was settled we were to go first to Switzerland. The number of our trunks having considerably increased during our stay in Paris, we decided to cut down our luggage to the minimum, and left our big boxes to go straight on to Moscow through a transport-office. The chief of this office, a fat little jew, put himself quite at my disposal and proposed to forward to me in the future, all the Nouveautés appearing in the Paris shops for all the seasons, through his office.
CHAPTER XXIV
ON OUR WAY TO LUCERNE
We started on our tour through Switzerland and went full speed in an express train to Lucerne. The scenery around us was lovely. Passing through the province “La Champagne,” so rich in vineyards, we perceived small white cottages with the vines in front. On the mountain slopes bunches of newly-mown herbs were scattered; men and women were helping to heap the grass into heavily laden carts. I was in ecstasies over the marvellous landscape that met our eyes immediately after leaving Liège. The delightful panorama reminded me of the Caucasus, only it was more pacific and thickly populated. Our train ran through countless tunnels and went twining in and out through patches of pasturage, so green, smooth and rich; big fat cows grazed lazily thereon. The road zigzags all the time, the sun appearing alternatively on our right or our left. The steep hills are covered with dense forests through which cascades are pouring down. We were winding higher and higher with every mile. The cars are very comfortable, with a long corridor along the side, where one can walk up and down. Feeling cramped with sitting, I went out there to stretch my legs, and saw a young man undeniably good-looking, whose appearance spoke the last word of fashion and who resembled a tailor’s model from a Paris shop-window. He twisted his moustache and stared so hard at me that I hurried back to my place, but this hunter of petticoats followed me and sat down on the vacant seat opposite to me. I settled myself far back into my corner and tried to hide myself behind my book, but every time I raised my eyes I met his stare. A draught of air blew in from the corridor “Shall I shut the door?” suddenly ejaculated the passenger by way of opening conversation. I said “no,” the “no” of a woman who was not to be drawn into a talk. Disregarding my cold tone, he insisted on lending me his rug, tucking it round my knees and under my feet, but I disencumbered myself hastily from his coverlet, which was very efficacious in lowering his enterprising spirits, and put that brazen-faced swell quickly into his place. It was a good blow to his self-conceit, he evidently took offence and left me alone.
CHAPTER XXV
LUCERNE
Here are the Alps towering in all their glory, their immense contours sharp and clear. A few minutes more and our train stops at Lucerne. We were warned that the principal hotels at Lucerne were always full during the season, and that we had better order rooms beforehand by telegram, so we wired for an apartment at the “Hôtel Schweizerhof,” but it led to nothing, and when the omnibus pulled up at this hotel we learned, to our disgust, it was quite full. A superior-looking gentleman at the desk announced that he had no single room disengaged at present. We were told to come next morning and there might then be an apartment free in the meanwhile. Thanks to our telegram a room had been provided for us in a private house just opposite. We followed a waiter who showed us the way there, and mounted to our room in anything but a sweet temper. It proved to be small but bright and perfectly neat and had nice beds disappearing completely under huge eider-downs, with linen smelling of lavender. The furniture was simple, the walls hung all over with framed portrait groups of antiquated photography; amateur pictures of our landlady’s parents stared down at us over the mantlepiece; on one side of them hung a flaming heart made of red paper and on the other a small crooked mirror in which we could see only half of our faces reflected in it; I have seen nature insulted but never to such an extent. On the mantlepiece enclosed in a glass case stood a clock which didn’t mark the hour. Our landlady, a stout, comely-looking woman, proposed coffee and was altogether nice to us.
The next day we went for the promised room at the “Schweizerhof,” but the manager, with his hands in both his pockets, announced curtly that there was no room free until evening. There remained nothing else to do but to walk away in quest of another apartment. After a pretty hot chase we succeeded in finding a comfortable room at the “Hôtel National,” on the second floor, with a good view on the lake, looking big as a sea, and the majestic Mount Pilatus, from where Pontius Pilatus is said to have thrown himself into the lake after the crucifixion. The legend goes that he fled from Jerusalem and wandered about the earth with a troubled conscience, and put an end to his misery on the heights of Mount Pilatus by drowning himself. From our windows we could also see the port where the steamers, black with people, were coming and going all the time, carrying away crowds of passengers in different directions of the beautiful lake.
We are going to be here a week and make trips round about. I am prepared to be delighted with everybody and everything.
Next morning we took our luncheon on our little railed balcony in cool comfort. The weather was clear and we had a very good view of the distant ranges of mountains and the snow-hooded Alpine peaks.