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This chapter begins the alpine idyll of the escaped pair. They live in a Christmas-card inn on a mountainside. Hemingway spares nothing in his description of the pure, rural beauty of their surroundings. You may be reminded of the description, back in Chapter 3, of the Abruzzi. Then a callow American went to urban fleshpots; now a sobered deserter dwells where the roads are \"iron hard with the frost\" and the snow is dry and powdery for skiing.
They have a fine time, a finer time than their summer together. The war is far away, and if Henry wakes in the night, it\'s not from a nightmare. But however much it\'s suppressed by his love for Catherine, a slight fear in the night remains.
Another note of some foreboding is thrown in casually, when Catherine suggests they go someplace and have beer. Beer is supposed to keep the baby small, the doctor has told her, and that is advisable because she has small hips. She mentions it twice; Henry shows concern, but she dismisses it.
Later in the midst of their wonderful time Henry reveals that he thinks occasionally about his army friends, Rinaldi and the priest. Actually, he seems to be thinking about them and the war more often than he cares to admit.
As the chapter ends, he and Catherine wake up one night in beautiful, cold moonlight. She goes back to sleep before he does. He lies there thinking about \"things\" and watching her.
The question is, Can Frederic Henry make a \"separate peace\"? And can he ever put the war, and his experiences in it, out of his mind? Watching him watching her in the moonlight, you have to doubt it. Whatever those \"things\" are, he can\'t seem to forget them.
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