Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source: http://www.archive.org/details/nosurrender00wern
2. The author's name E. Werner is a pseudonym forElisabeth Bürstenbinder.
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The whole landscape lay in bright sunshine. Clear as a mirror gleamedthe broad smooth surface of the lake, faithfully reflecting the imageof the town which rose in picturesque beauty on its shores, whilst inthe distance, vividly distinct, appeared the jagged peaks and dazzlingsummits of the snow-mountains.
A suburb rich in villas and gardens lined the shore. In its midst stooda pretty, detached habitation of modest aspect. It was a one-storiedcottage, by no means spacious, and showing signs of no special luxurywithin or without. An open vine-traceried veranda formed well-nigh itssole ornament; yet there was an air of refinement about the littleplace, and it had a right friendly pleasant look, thanks to its freshwhite walls and green jalousies; while the surrounding garden, not verylarge, truly, but highly cultivated, and stretching away to the borderof the lake, had a peculiar charm of its own, and greatly added to thegeneral attractiveness of the little country-house.
In the veranda, which afforded ample protection from the sun's ardentrays, and where, even at noonday, a certain degree of coolness might beenjoyed, two gentlemen were pacing, talking as they walked.
The elder of the two was a man of, it might be, about fifty years; butold age seemed to have come upon him prematurely, for his form was bentand his hair as grey as it could well be. The deeply-furrowed face,too, bore evidence of bygone struggles, perhaps of sorrows andsufferings of many kinds endured in the past, and the sharp, bitterlines about the mouth gave a harsh and almost hostile expression to acountenance which must once have been bright with ardour andintelligence. In the eye alone there still blazed a fire which neitheryears nor the hard experiences of life had had power to quench, andwhich was in singular contrast with the silvered head and droopingcarriage.
His companion was much younger; a man slender of build and of averageheight, with features which, though not strictly regular, were yet inthe highest degree attractive, and grave, earnest blue eyes. His lightchestnut hair waved over a fine open forehead. There was that slightpaleness of complexion which tells not of sickliness, but of keenintellectual activity and a constant mental strain; and the predominantexpression was one of quiet steadfastness, such as is but rarelystamped on a face at seven or eight and twenty. There could hardly be asharper contrast than that afforded by these two men.
"So you are really going to leave us already George?" asked the elder,in a regretful tone.
The young man smiled.
"Already? I