decide." As she spoke, she looked mystic, sibylline, and I could
almost fancy that before her dreamy eyes arose a vision of my future
as if floating in a magic crystal. For an instant I was inclined to
beg that she would prophesy, but the mood passed. All that I asked or
expected to get from the future was a mule, a man, some mountains, and
forgetfulness.

It was decided, then, that the only questions to be put to Herr Widmer
should concern the mule. I had a vague dream of presently standing on
the balcony, while various muleteers and their well-groomed animals
passed in review under my eyes, but the landlord's first words struck
at my hopes and left them maimed.

"There are no mules to be had in Lucerne," he said.

"In the country near by, then?"

"Nor in the country near by. The nearest place where you could get one
would be in the Valais--best at Brig."

"But I don't want to go to Brig," I said forlornly. "If I went to
Brig, that would mean that I should have to do a lot of walking
afterwards, to reach the parts I wish to reach, through the hot Rhone
Valley, where I should be eaten up by gnats and other disagreeable
wild beasts. I know the Rhone Valley between Brig and Martigny
already, by railway travelling, and that is more than enough."

"The Rhone Valley is a misunderstood valley. Even between Martigny
and Brig, it is far more beautiful than anyone who has seen it only
from the railway can possibly judge," pleaded Herr Widmer. "It well