A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. ‘No, no, I am convinced your very first theory was right. She worried for her father in Mantua, 28 hoping that he was still alive. Rumors had it he had been a looker in his youth, all long hair and chiseled muscles, but those days were long gone. I trust that she will not misunderstand me. ” “Wherever you like!” he answered, a little absently. “Lucy, where is your callous? All violinists have calluses on their necks and hands from playing.
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