She looked about her towards the purple mountains, across the golden
waters, and she cried out with all her heart, "Yes, it is finer than the
Lake of Sils."

But Rico felt that it had never yet been so exquisitely beautiful as on
this evening when he and Stineli saw it together.

Rico had another secret joy that he cherished in his heart. How
surprised Silvio and his mother would be to see them! Nobody had
expected them back so soon. Nobody would look for them before the end of
the week, and now there they sat by the lake-side.

They did not quit the little mound until the sun had fairly disappeared.

Rico pointed out to his companion the spot where his mother stood
washing something in the lake, and how he used to sit waiting until she
had finished; and then he told how they walked back together, hand in
hand, over the little bridge.

"But where did you go when you went back?" asked Stineli. "Have you
never found the house that you returned to?"

Rico could not say. "When I go up there, away from the lake towards the
railroad, I seem to remember that there I stood with my mother, or sat
with her upon a garden-seat with the red flowers before us; but now
nothing is to be seen like the house, and I do not even recognize the
road at all."

At last they arose, and went towards the garden. Rico carried the