The richest children were pointed out, the prettiest and those from well-known families: there were the little daughter of a Dutch multi-millionaire, the son of a Prussian prince, and a twelve-year-old lad who bore the name of a champagne known the world over. Young Karen was gay with the rest, and coughed persistently as she laughed; clapping for joy and very gratitude her poor hands with the running finger-ends.

The cousins took her to see the bobsleigh races as well. It was no distance to the terminus, either from Karen’s lodging or from the Berghof; for the track came down from the Schatzalp and ended in the village, among the houses on the western slope. At that point a hut had been erected, where word was received by telephone of the departures up above.