The Arve has a thick soapy appearance; the Rhone
is of a fine dark green, and seems for a while to spurn a connection
with its muddy visitor. For two or three miles the Rhone keeps up its
reserve, and the rivers roll side by side, without mingling their
waters. At length they meet and blend: the distinction is lost, the
polluted Arve is absorbed in the haughty and majestic Rhone.
We were to leave Geneva the next morning. Before night our guide came:
he was ill, would we take his son? The proposition did not please us;
it was a dangerous journey, and many had been lost in the mountain
passes.
"Erwald knows as much of the passes as I do," said the father, "and he
is anxious to go; his sister lives at Maglan, and she is down with the
fever."
I saw how it was. Erwald was to go to Maglan to visit his sister; and
if the father could arrange for him to go with us, of course he
himself would be free to make another engagement.
"Do you feel sure that you can guide us safely?" I asked of Erwald.
"Certainly, monsieur; I have been over the way many times. If I was
not quite sure, I would not offer to go."
"Not if you could gain a good many francs by going?"
"It would not be right to say to you that I knew the way, if I did
not."
The boy's face was attractive, his voice gentle, and his blue eyes
full of tenderness. His look and his answer delighted me.
"No, it would not be right, Erwald; and because you love the right and
feel sure that you can serve us, I will take you in your father's
place.
Pages:
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35