Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source: http://www.archive.org/details/deadlakeothertal00heys
Summer was at its heighth, yet in one corner of the Alps an icy coldwind revolted against its dominion, and threatened to change thepouring rain into snow flakes. The air was so gloomy that even a housewhich stood about a hundred paces from the shore of the lake, could notbe distinguished, although it was white-washed and twilight had hardlyset in.
A fire had been lighted in the kitchen. The landlady was standing by itfrying a dish of fish, while with one foot she rocked a cradle whichstood beside the hearth. In the tap room, the landlord was lying on abench by the stove, cursing the flies which would not let him sleep. Abarefooted maid of all work sat spinning in a corner, and now and thenglanced with a sigh, through the dingy panes at the wild storm whichwas raging without. A tall strong fellow, the farm servant of the inn,came grumbling into the room: he shook the rain-drops from his clothes,like a dog coming out of the water, and threw a heap of wet fishingnets into a corner. It seemed as if the cloud of discontent andill-humour which hung over the house, was only kept by this moodysilence from bursting into a storm of discord and quarreling.
Suddenly the outer door opened, and a stranger's step was heard gropingthrough the dark passage; the landlord did not move, only the maidrose, and opened the door of the room.
A man in a travelling suit stood at the entrance, and asked if this wasthe inn of the dead lake. As the girl answered shortly in theaffirmative, he walked in, threw his dripping plaid and travellingpouch on the table, and sat down on the bench apparently exhausted; buthe neither removed his hat heavy with rain nor laid down his walkingstick, as if intending to start again after a short rest.
The maid still stood before him, waiting for his orders, but he seemedto have forgotten the