were he! If only he could call a world into being, that should be their own world!

The Belgians left, the train ran on, through Luxembourg, through Alsace-Lorraine, through Metz. But she was blind, she could see no more. Her soul did not look out.

They came at last to Basle, to the hotel. It was all a drifting trance, from which she never came to. They went out in the morning, before the train departed. She saw the street, the river, she stood on the bridge. But it all meant nothing. She remembered some shops — one full of pictures, one with orange velvet and ermine. But what did these signify? — nothing.

She was not at ease till they were in the train again. Then she was relieved. So long as they were moving onwards, she was satisfied.