Others have turned back in time.
One has a whiff of fragrant woodlands and serene hay-cocks, a breath
of cool air from the Jungfrau's snows, a sniff of delectable bacon
and toast--and a zest for breakfast. And one sets about it with
interest, with the breakfast of the next day as a thing to look
forward to.
R. Schmidt sat facing the dejected Boske Dank. His eyes were dancing
with the joy of living, and nothing better can be said of a man's
character than that he is gay and happy at breakfast-time. He who
wakes up, refreshed and buoyant, and eager for the day's adventure,
is indeed a child of nature. He will never grow old and crabbed; he
will grip the hand of death when the time comes with the unconquered
zeal that makes the grim reaper despise himself for the advantage he
takes of youth.
"Well, here we are and in spite of that, where are we?" said Dank,
who saw nothing beautiful in the smile of any early morn. "I mean to
say, what have we to show for our pains? We sneak into this
Godforsaken hamlet, surrounded on all sides by abominations in the
shape of tourists, and at the end of twenty-four hours we discover
that the fair Miss Guile has played us a shabby trick.
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