Next I was told that the height of the season had arrived. The round
of indoor entertainments went on and almost daily the guests walked to
some near point to witness performances by professionals who seemed to
tour the country for that purpose.

Just when there appeared to be a slight prospect of some general
outdoor activity (and Frederick's ski were pronounced perfect) a
thaw occurred. I am bound to say that the event was received
philosophically. Not a single member of the company made any
complaint; they faced adversity like true Britons and boldly sat
in the warm hotel to save themselves for the evening. Nor did their
distress put them off their feed; they punished the tea unmercifully,
showing scarcely a sign of the aching sorrow which devoured them.

Soon it froze again. The daily visit to the ice was made and
Frederick's ski were once more put into training.

As for me I began to believe that there was something shameful or
disgraceful in my desire to skate. So I left secretly for Sicily. Here
I can enjoy passive entertainment without being unpleasantly chilled.

Well, a few days ago I received from Frederick a letter, from which
the following is a quotation: "The final thaw has now occurred and the
season is ended. It has been one of the most successful on record. The
full programme was carried out to the letter; I wish you had been here
for the last Fancy Dress. My ski were really fit and I was looking
forward to some great days on the snow. I think I made a bit of a hit
too, playing _Lord Twinkles_ in _The Gay Life_."

The ski will no doubt miss Frederick's affectionate attention; he was