Seelchen. [Awed] The Great Horn!  But he is impossible.

Lamond.  I am going to try that.

Seelchen.  There is the Wine Horn, and the Cow Horn.

Lamond.  I have climbed them.

Seelchen.  But he is so dangerous—­it is perhaps—­death.

Lamond.  Oh! that’s all right!  One must take one’s chance.

Seelchen.  And father has hurt his foot.  For guide, there is only
Mans Felsman.

Lamond.  The celebrated Felsman?

Seelchen. [Nodding; then looking at him with admiration] Are you that Herr Lamond who has climbed all our little mountains this year?

Lamond.  All but that big fellow.

Seelchen.  We have heard of you.  Will you not wait a day for father’s foot?

Lamond.  Ah! no.  I must go back home to-morrow.

Seelchen.  The gracious Sir is in a hurry.

Lamond. [Looking at her intently] Alas!

Seelchen.  Are you from London?  Is it very big?

Lamond.  Six million souls.

Seelchen.  Oh! [After a little pause] I have seen Cortina twice.

Lamond.  Do you live here all the year?

Seelchen.  In winter in the valley.

Lamond.  And don’t you want to see the world?

Seelchen.  Sometimes. [Going to a door, she calls softly] Hans! [Then pointing to another door] There are seven German gentlemen asleep in there!

Lamond.  Oh God!

Seelchen.  Please?  They are here to see the sunrise. [She picks up a little book that has dropped from LAMOND’S pocket] I have read several books.

Lamond.  This is by the great English poet.  Do you never make poetry here, and dream dreams, among your mountains?

Seelchen. [Slowly shaking her head] See!  It is the full moon.

     While they stand at the window looking at the moon, there enters
     a lean, well-built, taciturn young man dressed in Loden.

Seelchen.  Hans!

Felsman. [In a deep voice] The gentleman wishes me?

Seelchen. [Awed] The Great Horn for to-morrow! [Whispering to him]
It is the celebrated London one.

Felsman.  The Great Horn is not possible.

Lamond.  You say that?  And you’re the famous Felsman?

Felsman. [Grimly] We start at dawn.

Seelchen.  It is the first time for years!

Lamond. [Placing his plaid and rucksack on the window bench] Can I sleep here?

Seelchen.  I will see; perhaps—­

     [She runs out up some stairs]

Felsman. [Taking blankets from the cupboard and spreading them on the window seat] So!