The Swiss Summer by Stella Gibbons

Author:Stella Gibbons
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2020-10-22T00:00:00+00:00

The train was not crowded, because most tourists intending to undertake the excursion had been prevented by the rain from making the necessary early start, and the four found seats next to the windows. There came a clanking, groaning noise which conveyed an impression of immense effort going into action against immense physical obstacles, and the train slowly moved forward.

“What a filthy row; I hope to God it’s safe,” said Kay, taking out her cigarette case.

“The Swiss mountain railways are only the best in the world,” said Peter awfully, resenting this slur. “You should worry.”

“I never do feel safe on these bloody things; it’s a complex or what-have-you.”

Astra listened with an absent expression while she gazed out of the window at the pure and lofty summits now revealed in full sun; there was a sedate yet gay French party also in the carriage, and she amused herself by trying to understand what they were saying and by contentedly thinking that there would be no financial problem for her, because she possessed the exact fare up to the Jungfraujoch and back, and one franc besides. She hoped that the buttered roll saved from breakfast, which she had thrust into her rucksack, would prevent disagreeable pangs of hunger throughout the long hours, and Bertram was there, and it was a fine day. What more could she ask?

“I want to see those dogs, I must say,” said Kay suddenly, turning from the window. “They take you for rides on a sleigh or something.”

“Not if we have to pay for it,” said Bertram cheerfully, and Peter nodded, while Astra murmured, “I shan’t be able to, Kay, unless it’s free. I’ve only got one franc.”

“Oh you are wet, all of you,” Kay said, but with more impatience than contempt. “I know you can’t help it,” to Astra, “but you two,” looking at the young men, “are absolutely nuts, I think. If you’ve got money why not spend it? What are you saving for anyway? There’ll probably be another war or something any minute, and then you’ll simply have had it, and never have had a good time, either.”

“Those are not the views of B. and myself, but there’s no need to discuss it now,” said Peter. “You can go to the dogs by yourself and we’ll watch you.”

“I don’t want to go by myself.”

“Why not?” Astra asked.

“Because it looks so wet,” Kay said after a pause. “Like those Pimmie hags.”

“Why can’t you just enjoy yourself without moaning?” said Peter, from the corner seat where he leaned back, with his sunburnt arms crossed and his blue eyes louring steadily, disapprovingly upon her.

“When have I moaned?”

“You moaned all the way up the Faulhorn and you moaned on the summit and you moaned all the way down.”

“I did not! I hardly uttered.”

“That’s true,” Peter admitted with crushing fairness, “but when you did utter you moaned.”

“Well, I hate mountains. They’re dreary.”

At this Peter slowly began to turn scarlet, though he continued to regard her unwaveringly.

“And you moaned all the way up to the Kleine Scheidegg and down again, too,” he said at last.

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