And, after all, a fine clear sky of bright colors is the signal to come out of hiding and rejoice and go on with life. But the stone was slippery; and the tide, which here began to feel the influence of the fall, was running with frightful velocity. 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.
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