Any one very badly moved choked down a few mouthfuls; the symptom of supreme distress was not to be able to touch a bit. She had pushed aside her azure veil, taken off her snow-glasses, and sat smiling under her hand at the shining glories—the lit cornices, the blue shadows, the softly rounded, enormous snow masses, the deep places full of quivering luminosity—of the Taschhorn and Dom. "Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind.
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