In the time that followed there were many occasions when it was
necessary for me to pass upon my way without noticing the insults cast
at me by ignorant people; but I do not recall that their taunts caused
me any suffering. But my experience with the parasol! No, I am sure that
I have never accomplished any braver act that that.
But I am convinced that it is unnecessary for me to seek any other cause
for my aversion to umbrellas, an aversion that followed me into mature
age. And I attribute to handkerchiefs and such things, and to the
excessive care my family took to stop up every chink through which air
might reach me, my later habit, in line with my tendency to reactions,
of exposing my breast to the burning rays of the sun, of exposing myself
to every kind of wind and weather.
CHAPTER XLII.
With my head pressed against the glass in the door of the railway coach
that was going rapidly I continually asked my sister, who sat opposite:
“Are we in the mountains yet?”
“Not yet,” she would answer, still remembering the Alps vividly. “Not
yet, dear. Those are only high hills.”
The August day was warm and radiantly bright. We were in an express
train going south, on our way to visit those cousins whom we had never
seen.
“Oh! but that one! See! See!” I exclaimed triumphantly, as my eyes spied
an elevation towering above others; it was one whose blue height pierced
the clear horizon.
She leaned forward.
“Ah!” she said, “that is a little more like a mountain, I must
confess,--but it isn't a very high one, only wait!”
At the hotel, where we were obliged to remain until the following day,
everything interested us. I remember that night came suddenly, a night
of splendor, as we leaned upon the railing of the balcony leading from
our rooms, watching the shadows gather about the blue mountains and
listening to the chirping of the crickets.
The next day, the third of our frequently interrupted journey, we hired
a funny little carriage to take us to the town, one much out of the line
of travel at that time, where our cousins lived.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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