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Reports of the triumph of the Catholics reached Zwingli from his friends also. Comander, pastor in Chur, told him of letters received there, and of the alarm of all the friends of reform. George Mangolt wrote from Constance: "Every day letters arrive here from Baden. O how the Papists rejoice!
I followed you by motor, and got news of you as having gone over the Splugen. My car had a bad accident on the pass, and I was ten weeks in hospital at Chur. After that I lost all trace." "I heard of the accident," she said, her eyes all the while searching out the changed details of a face which had once been familiar to her. "But Rocca wasn't with me then. I had only old Zélie you remember?"
Alas! there remained to him now only two articles of his once considerable store the bracelet that was in the hands of M. Guldenthal, and a diamond ring that he wore on his finger. He decided that, before quitting Chur, he would borrow money on this ring, or that he would try to sell it. He remained some time seated at the foot of his bed, dangling his legs to and fro, his eyes closed.
Nelson Chur called on Miss Editha Cinnamon and was just warming up a proposal that had held over almost as long as the wall paper, when bang! down came the overhanging brass drawing and bent itself hopelessly on Mr. Chur's skull. Mr. Chur said something that may have been Damocles. But he did not propose, and Mrs. Budlong was weeks wondering why Mrs. Cinnamon was so snippy to her.
Count Abel Larinski leaned forward, plucked a spray of heather, tickled his lips with it, and began to laugh; then, striking his breast, he said, in an undertone, "Thank God, Samuel Brohl is not dead, for he is here!" He spoke the truth: Samuel Brohl was not dead, and life was of value to him, since he had met Mlle. Antoinette Moriaz in the cathedral in Chur.
All the blocks of this peculiar granite keep to the left bank, even where the valley turns almost at right angles to its former course near Mayenfeld below Chur, making a sharp bend resembling that of the valley of the Rhone at Martigny. The granite blocks, where they are traced to the low country, still keep to the left side of the Lake of Constance.
M. Moriaz ordered the coachman to stop, sprang out of the carriage, went up to the traveller whom he seized by both shoulders, exclaiming: "What, you! you again! I can go nowhere in Grisons without meeting you. I ask as I did at Chur, 'Where do you come from?" "Did you think I would stay there forever?" rejoined M. Camille Langis, reproachfully.
It sounds an easy question to answer; but I am thinking of years later, one winter's night at Tiefenkasten in the Julier Pass. I was on my way from San Moritz to Chur. The sole passenger, I had just climbed, half frozen, from the sledge, and was thawing myself before the stove in the common room of the hotel when the waiter put a pencilled note into my hand: "Come up and see me.
Twenty minutes later he was crossing a public square, ornamented with a pretty Gothic fountain, and seeing before him a cathedral, he hastened to enter it. The cathedral of Chur possesses, among other curiosities, a painting by Albert Durer, a St. Lawrence on the gridiron, attributed to Holbein, a piece of the true cross, and some relics of St. Lucius and his sister Ernesta.
I have seldom seen a place more quaint, pretty, calm, and pastoral, than this remote little Chur. What need have the inhabitants for walls and ramparts, except to build summer-houses, to trail vines, and hang clothes to dry on them?
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