Chapter XXII.

Through this gap

On and say nothing, lest a word, a breath,

Bring down a winter's snow, enough to whelm

The armed files that, night and day, were seen

Winding from cliff to cliff in loose array,

To conquer at Marengo.

_Italy._

Pierre Dumont halted in the middle of the sterile little plain, while he

signed for those he conducted to continue their ascent. As each mule

passed, it received a blow or a kick from the impatient guide, who did not

seem to think it necessary to be very ceremonious with the poor beasts,

and had taken this simple method to give a general and a brisker impulsion

to the party. The expedient was so natural, and so much in accordance with

the practice of the muleteers and others of their class, that it excited

no suspicion in most of the travellers, who pursued their way, either

meditating on and enjoying the novel and profound emotions that their

present situation so naturally awakened, or discoursing lightly, in the

manner of the thoughtless and unconcerned. The Signor Grimaldi alone,

whose watchfulness had already been quickened by previous distrust, took

heed of the movement. When all had passed, the Genoese turned in his

saddle, and cast an apparently careless look behind. But the glance in

truth was anxious and keen. Pierre stood looking steadily at the heavens,

one hand holding his hat, and the other extended with an open palm. A

glittering particle descended to the latter, when the guide instantly

resumed his place in advance. As he passed the Italian, however, meeting

an inquiring look, he permitted the other to see a snow-drop so

thoroughly congealed, as to have not yet melted with the natural heat of

his skin. The eye of Pierre appeared to impose discretion on his

confidant, and the silent communion escaped the observation of the rest of

the travellers. Just at this moment, too, the attention of the others was

luckily called to a different object, by a cry from one of the muleteers,

of whom there were three as assistants to the guide. He pointed out a

party which, like themselves, was holding the direction of the Col. There

was a solitary individual mounted on a mule, and a single pedestrian,

without any guide, or other traveller, in their company. Their movements

were swift, and they had not been more than a minute in view, before they

disappeared behind an angle of the crags which nearly closed the valley on

the side of the convent, and which was the precise spot already mentioned

as being so dangerous in the season of the melting snows.

"Dost thou know the quality and object of the travellers before us?"

demanded the Baron de Willading of Pierre.

The latter mused. It was evident he did not expect to meet with strangers

in that particular part of the passage.

"We can know little of those who come from the convent, though few would

be apt to leave so safe a roof at this late hour," he answered; "but,

until I saw yonder travellers with my own eyes, I could have sworn there

were none on this side of the Col going the same way as ourselves? It is

time that all the others were already arrived."

"They are villagers of St. Pierre, going up with supplies;" observed one

of the muleteers. "None bound to Italy have passed Liddes since the party

of Pippo, and they by this tine should be well housed at the hospice.

Didst not see a dog among them?--'twas one of the Augustines' mastiffs."

"'Twas the dog I noted, and it was on account of his appearance that I

spoke;" returned the baron. "The animal had the air of an old

acquaintance, Gaetano, for to me it seemed to resemble our tried friend

Nettuno; and he at whose heels it kept so close wore much the air of our

acquaintance of the Leman, the bold and ready Maso."

"Who has gone unrequited for his eminent services!" answered the Genoese,

thoughtfully "The extraordinary refusal of that man to receive our money

is quite as wonderful as any other part of his unusual and inexplicable

conduct. I would he had been less obstinate or less proud, for the

unrequited obligation rests like a load upon my spirits."

"Thou art wrong. I employed our young friend Sigismund secretly on this

duty, while we were receiving the greetings of Roger de Blonay and the

good bailiff, but thy countryman treated the escape lightly, as the

mariner is apt to consider past danger, and he would listen to no offer of

protection or gold. I was, therefore more displeased than surprised by

what thou hast well enough termed obstinacy."

"Tell your employers, he said," added Sigismund, "that they may thank the

saints, Our Lady, or brother Luther, as best suits their habits, but that

they had better forget that such a man as Maso lives. His acquaintance can

bring them neither honor nor advantage. Tell this especially to the Signor

Grimaldi, when you are on your journey to Italy, and we have parted for

ever, as on my suggestion. This was said to me, in the interview I held

with the I rave fellow after his liberation from prison."

"The answer was remarkable for a man of his condition, and the especial

message to myself of singular exception. I observed that his eye was

often on me, with peculiar meaning, during the passage of the lake, and

to this hour I have not been able to explain the motive!"

"Is the Signore of Genoa?"--asked the guide: "or is he, by chance, in any

way connected with her authorities?"

"Of that republic and city, and certainly of some little interest with the

authorities;" answered the Italian, a slight smile curling his lip, as he

glanced a look at his friend.

"It is not necessary to look farther for Maso's acquaintance with your

features," returned Pierre, laughing; "for of all who live in Italy, there

is not a man who has more frequent occasions to know the

authorities; but we linger, in this gossip. Urge the beasts upwards,

Etienne--presto!--presto!"

The muleteers answered this appeal by one of their long cries, which has a

resemblance to the rattling that is the well-known signal of the venomous

serpent of this country when he would admonish the traveller to move

quickly, and which certainly produces the same startling effect on the

nerves of the mule as the signal of the snake is very apt to excite in

man. This interruption caused the dialogue to be dropped, all riding

onward, musing in their several fashions on what had just passed. In a few

minutes the party turned the crag in question, and, quitting the valley,

or sterile basin, in which they had been journeying for the last half

hour, they entered by a narrow gorge into a scene that resembled a crude

collection of the materials of which the foundations of the world had been

originally formed. There was no longer any vegetation at all, or, if here

and there a blade of grass had put forth under the shelter of some stone,

it was so meagre, and of so rare occurrence, as to be unnoticed in that

sublime scene of chaotic confusion. Ferruginous, streaked, naked, and

cheerless rocks arose around them, and even that snowy beacon, the glowing

summit of Vélan, which had so long lain bright and cheering on their path,

was now hid entirely from view. Pierre Dumont soon after pointed out a

place on the visible summit of the mountain, where a gorge between the

neigh boring peaks admitted a view of the heavens beyond. This he informed

those he guided was the Col, through whose opening the pile of the Alps

was to be finally surmounted. The light that still tranquilly reigned in

this part of the heavens was in sublime contrast to the gathering gloom of

the passes below, and all hailed this first glimpse of the end of their

day's toil as a harbinger of rest, and we might add of security; for,

although none but the Signor Grimaldi had detected the secret uneasiness

of Pierre, it was not possible to be, at that late hour, amid so wild and

dreary a display of desolation, and, as it were, cut off from communion

with their kind, without experiencing an humbling sense of the dependence

of man upon the grand and ceaseless Providence of God.

The mules were again urged to increase their pace, and images of the

refreshment and repose that were expected from the convent's hospitality,

became general and grateful among the travellers. The day was fast

disappearing from the glens and ravines through which they rode, and all

discourse ceased in the desire to get on. The exceeding purity of the

atmosphere, which, at that great elevation, resembled a medium of thought

rather than of matter, rendered objects defined, just, and near; and none

but the mountaineers and Sigismund, who were used to the deception, (for

in effect truth obtains this character with those who have been accustomed

to the false) and who understood the grandeur of the scale on which nature

has displayed her power among the Alps, knew how to calculate the

distance which still separated them from their goal. More than a league of

painful and stony ascent was to be surmounted, and yet Adelheid and

Christine had both permitted slight exclamations of pleasure to escape

them, when Pierre pointed to the speck of blue sky between the hoary

pinnacles above, and first gave them to understand that it denoted the

position of the convent. Here and there, too, small patches of the last

year's snow were discovered, lying under the shadows of overhanging rocks,

and which were likely to resist the powers of the sun till winter came

again; another certain sign that they had reached a height greatly

exceeding that of the usual habitations of men. The keenness of the air

was another proof of their situation, for all the travellers had heard

that the Augustines dwelt among eternal frosts, a report which is nearly

literally true.

At no time during the day had the industry of the party been as great as

it now became. In this respect, the ordinary traveller is apt to resemble

him who journeys on the great highway of life, and who finds himself

obliged, by a tardy and ill-requited diligence in age, to repair those

omissions and negligences of youth which would have rendered the end of

his toil easy and profitable. Improved as their speed had become, it

continued to increase rather than to diminish, for Pierre Dumont kept his

eye riveted on the heavens, and each moment of time seemed to bring new

incentives to exertion. The wearied beasts manifested less zeal than the

guide, and they who rode them were beginning to murmur at the

unreasonableness of the rate at which they were compelled to proceed on

the narrow, uneven, stony path, where footing for the animals was not

always obtained with the necessary quickness, when a gloom deeper that

cast by the shadows of the rocks fell upon their track, and the air filled

with snow, as suddenly as if all its particles had been formed and

condensed by the application of some prompt chemical process.

The change was so unexpected, and yet so complete, that the whole party

checked their mules, and sat looking up at the millions of flakes that

were descending on their heads, with more wonder and admiration than fear.

A shout from Pierre first aroused them from this trance, and recalled them

to a sense of the real state of things. He was standing on a knoll,

already separated from the party by some fifty yards, white with snow, and

gesticulating violently for the travellers to come on.

"For the sake of the Blessed Maria! quicken the beasts," he cried; for

Pierre, like most who dwell in Valais, was a Catholic, and one accustomed

to bethink him most of his heavenly mediator when most oppressed with

present dangers; "quicken their speed, if ye value your lives! This is no

moment to gaze at the mountains, which are well enough in their way, and

no doubt both the finest and largest known," (no Swiss ever seriously

vituperates or loses his profound veneration for his beloved nature,) "but

which had better be the humblest plain on earth for our occasions than

what they truly are. Quicken the mules then, for the love of the Blessed

Virgin!"

"Thou betrayest unnecessary, and, for one that had needs be cool,

indiscreet alarm, at the appearance of a little snow, friend Pierre,"

observed the Signer Grimaldi, as the mules drew near the guide, and

speaking with a little of the irony of a soldier who had steeled his

nerves by familiarity with danger. "Even we Italians, though less used to

the frosts than you of the mountains, are not so much disturbed by the

change, as thou, a trained guide of St. Bernard!"

"Reproach me as you will, Signore," said Pierre turning and pursuing his

way with increased diligence, though he did not entirely succeed in

concealing his resentment at an accusation which he knew to be unmerited,

"but quicken your pace; until you are better acquainted with the country

in which you journey, your words pass for empty breath in my ears. This is

no trifle of a cloak doubled about the person, or of balls rolled into

piles by the sport of children; but an affair of life or death. You are a

half league in the air, Signor Genoese, in the region of storms, where the

winds work their will, at times, as if infernal devils wore rioting to

cool themselves, and where the stoutest limbs and the firmest hearts are

brought but too often to see and confess their feebleness!"

The old man had uncovered his blanched locks in respect to the Italian, as

he uttered this energetic remonstrance, and when he ended, he walked on

with professional pride, as if disdaining to protect a brow that had

already weathered so many tempests among the mountains.

"Cover thyself, good Pierre, I pray thee:" urged the Genoese in a tone of

repentance. "I have shown the intemperance of a boy, and intemperance of a

quality that little becomes my years. Thou art the best judge of the

circumstances in which we are placed, and thou alone shalt lead us."

Pierre accepted the apology with a manly but respectful reverence,

continuing always to ascend with unremitted industry.

Ten gloomy and anxious minutes succeeded. During this time, the falling

snows came faster and in finer flakes, while, occasionally, there were

fearful intimations that the winds were about to rise. At the elevation

in which the travellers now found themselves, phenomena, that would

ordinarily be of little account, become the arbiters of fate. The escape

of the caloric from the human system, at the height of six or seven

thousand feet above the sea, and in the latitude of forty-six, is, under

the most favorable circumstances, frequently of itself the source of

inconvenience; but here were grave additional reasons to heighten the

danger. The absence of the sun's rays alone left a sense of chilling cold,

and a few hours of night were certain to bring frost, even at midsummer.

Thus it is that storms of trifling import in themselves gain power over

the human frame, by its reduced means of resistance, and when to this fact

is added the knowledge that the elements are far fiercer in their workings

in the upper than in the nether regions of the earth, the motives of

Pierre's concern will be better understood by the reader than they

probably wese by himself, though the honest guide had a long and severe

experience to supply the place of theory.

Men are rarely loquacious in danger. The timid recoil into themselves,

yielding most of their faculties to a tormenting imagination, that

augments the causes of alarm and diminishes the means of security, while

the firm of mind rally and condense their powers to the point necessary to

exertion. Such were the effects in the present instance, on those who

followed Pierre. A general and deep silence pervaded the party, each one

seeing their situation in the colors most suited to his particular habits

and character. The men, without an exception, were grave and earnest in

their efforts to force the mules forward; Adelheid became pale, but she

preserved her calmness by the sheer force of character; Christine was

trembling and dependent, though cheered by the presence of, and her

confidence in, Sigismund; while the attendants of the heiress of Willading

covered their heads, and followed their mistress with the blind faith in

their superiors that is apt to sustain people of their class in serious

emergencies.

Ten minutes sufficed entirely to change the aspect of the view. The frozen

element could not adhere to the iron-like and perpendicular faces of the

mountains, but the glens, and ravines, and valleys became as white as the

peak of Vélan. Still Pierre continued his silent and upward march, in a

way to keep alive a species of trembling hope among those who depended so

helplessly upon his intelligence and faith. They wished to believe that

the snow was merely one of those common occurrences that were to be

expected on the summits of the Alps at this late season of the year, and

which were no more than so many symptoms of the known rigor of the

approaching winter. The guide himself was evidently disposed to lose no

time in explanation, and as the secret excitement stole over all his

followers, he no longer had cause to complain of the tardiness of their

movements. Sigismund kept near his sister and Adelheid, having a care that

their mules did not lag; while the other males performed the same

necessary office for the beasts ridden by the female domestics. In this

manner passed the few sombre minutes which immediately preceded the

disappearance of day. The heavens were no longer visible. In that

direction the eye saw only an endless succession of falling flakes, and it

was getting to be difficult to distinguish even the ramparts of rock that

bounded the irregular ravine in which they rode. They were known to be,

however, at no great distance from the path, which indeed occasionally

brushed their sides. At other moments they crossed rude, stony, mountain

heaths, if such a word can be applied to spots without the symbol or hope

of vegetation. The traces of the beasts that had preceded them, became

less and less apparent, though the trickling stream that came down from

the glaciers, and along which they had now journeyed-for hours, was

occasionally seen, as it was crossed in pursuing their winding way.

Pierre, though still confident that he held the true direction, alone knew

that this guide was not longer to be relied on; for, as they drew nearer

to the top of the mountains, the torrent gradually lessened both in its

force and in the volume of its water, separating into twenty small rills,

which came rippling from the vast bodies of snow that lay among the

different peaks above.

As yet, there had been no wind. The guide, as minute after minute passed

without bringing any change in this respect, ventured at last to advert to

the fact, cheering his companions by giving them reasons to hope that they

should yet reach the convent without any serious calamity. As if in

mockery of this opinion, the flakes of snow began to whirl in the air,

while the words were on his lips, and a blast came through the ravine,

that set the protection of cloaks and mantles at defiance. Notwithstanding

his resolution and experience, the stout-hearted Pierre suffered an

exclamation of despair to escape him, and he instantly stopped, in the

manner of a man who could no longer conceal the dread that had been

collecting in his bosom for the last interminable and weary hour.

Sigismund, as well as most of the men of the party, had dismounted a

little previously, with a view to excite warmth by exercise. The youth had

often traversed the mountains, and the cry no sooner reached his ear, than

he was at the side of him who uttered it.

"At what distance, are we still from the convent?" he demanded eagerly.

"There is more than a league of steep and stone path to mount, Monsieur le

Capitaine;" returned the disconsolate Pierre, in a tone that perhaps said

more than his words.

"This is not a moment for indecision. Remember that thou art not the

leader of a party of carriers with their beasts of burthen, but that there

are those with us, who are unused to exposure, and are feeble of body.

What is the distance from the last hamlet we passed?"

"Double that to the convent!"

Sigismund turned, and with the eye he made a silent appeal to the two old

nobles, as if to ask for advice or orders.

"It might indeed be better to return," observed the Signore Grimaldi, in

the way one utters a half-formed resolution. "This wind is getting to be

piercingly cutting, and the night is hard upon us. What thinkest thou,

Melchior; for, with Monsieur Sigismund, I am of opinion that there is

little time to lose."

"Signore, your pardon," hastily interrupted the guide. "I would not

undertake to cross the plain of the Vélan an hour later, for all the

treasures of Einsideln and Loretto! The wind will have an infernal sweep

in that basin, which will soon be boiling like a pot, while here we shall

get, from time to time, the shelter of the rocks. The slightest mishap on

the open ground might lead us astray a league or more, and it would need

an hour to regain the course. The beasts too mount faster than they

descend, and with far more surety in the dark; and even when at the

village there is nothing fit for nobles, while the brave monks have all

that a king can need."

"Those who escape from these wild rocks need not be critical about their

fare, honest Pierre, when fairly housed. Wilt thou answer for our arrival

at the convent unharmed, and in reasonable time?"

"Signore, we are in the hands of God. The pious Augustines, I make no

doubt, are praying for all who are on the mountain at this moment; but

there is not a minute to lose. I ask no more than that none lose sight of

their companions, and that each exert his force to the utmost. We are not

far from the House of Refuge, and should the storm increase to a tempest,

as, to conceal the danger no longer, well may happen in this late month,

we will seek its shelter for a few hours."

This intelligence was happily communicated, for the certainty that there

was a place of safety within an attainable distance, had some such

cheering effect on the travellers as is produced on the mariner who finds

that the hazards of the gale are lessened by the accidental position of a

secure harbor under his lee. Repeating his admonitions for the party to

keep as close together as possible, and advising all who felt the sinister

effects of the cold on their limbs to dismount, and to endeavor to restore

the circulation by exercise, Pierre resumed his route.

But even the time consumed in this short conference had sensibly altered

the condition of things for the worse. The wind, which had no fixed

direction, being a furious current of the upper air diverted from its true

course by encountering the ragged peaks and ravines of the Alps, was now

whirling around them in eddies, now aiding their ascent by seeming to push

against their backs, and then returning in their faces with a violence

that actually rendered advance impossible. The temperature fell rapidly

several degrees, and the most vigorous of the party began to perceive the

benumbing influence of the chilling currents, at their lower extremities

especially, in a manner to excite serious alarm. Every precaution was used

to protect the females that tenderness could suggest; but though Adelheid,

who alone retained sufficient self-command to give an account of her

feelings, diminished the danger of their situation with the wish not to

alarm their companions uselessly, she could not conceal from herself the

horrible truth that the vital heat was escaping from her own body, with a

rapidity that rendered it impossible for her much longer to retain the use

of her faculties. Conscious of her own mental superiority over that of all

her female companions, a superiority which in such moments is even of more

account than bodily force, after a few minutes of silent endurance, she

checked her mule, and called upon Sigismund to examine the condition of

his sister and her maids, neither of whom had now spoken for some time.

This startling request was made at a moment when the storm appeared to

gather new force, and when it had become absolutely impossible to

distinguish even the whitened earth at twenty paces from the spot where

the party stood collected in a shivering group. The young soldier threw

open the cloaks and mantles in which Christine was enveloped, and the

half-unconscious girl sank on his shoulder, like a drowsy infant that was

willing to seek its slumbers in the arms of one it loved.

"Christine!--my sister!--my poor, my much-abused, angelic sister!"

murmured Sigismund, happily for his secret in a voice that only reached

the ears of Adelheid. "Awake! Christine; for the love of our excellent and

affectionate mother, exert thyself. Awake! Christine, in the name of God,

awake!"

"Awake, dearest Christine!" exclaimed Adelheid, throwing herself from the

saddle, and folding the smiling but benumbed girl to her bosom. "God

protect me from the pang of feeling that thy loss should be owing to my

wish to lead thee amid these cruel and inhospitable rocks! Christine, if

thou hast love or pity for me, awake!"

"Look to the maids!" hurriedly said Pierre, who found that he was fast

touching on one of those mountain catastrophes, of which, in the course of

his life, he had been the witness of a few of fearful consequences. "Look

to all the females, for he who now sleeps, dies!"

The muleteers soon stripped the two domestics of their outer coverings,

and it was immediately proclaimed that both were in imminent danger, one

having already lost all consciousness. A timely application of the flask

of Pierre, and the efforts of the muleteers, succeeded so far in restoring

life as to remove the grounds of immediate apprehension; though it was

apparent to the least instructed of them all, that half an hour more of

exposure would probably complete the fatal work that had so actively and

vigorously commenced. To add to the horror of this conviction, each member

of the party, not excepting the muleteers, was painfully conscious of the

escape of that vital warmth whose total flight was death.

In this strait all dismounted. They felt that the occasion was one of

extreme jeopardy, that nothing could save them but resolution, and that

every minute of time was getting to be of the last importance. Each

female, Adelheid included, was placed between two of the other sex, and,

supported in this manner, Pierre called loudly and in a manful voice for

the whole to proceed. The beasts were driven after them by one of the

muleteers.

The progress of travellers, feeble as Adelheid and her companions, on a

stony path of very uneven surface, and of a steep ascent, the snow

covering the feet, and the tempest cutting their faces, was necessarily

slow, and to the last degree toilsome. Still, the exertion increased the

quickness of the blood, and, for a short time, there was an appearance of

recalling those who most suffered to life. Pierre, who still kept his post

with the hardihood of a mountaineer, and the fidelity of a Swiss, cheered

them on with his voice, continuing to raise the hope that the place of

refuge was at hand.

At this instant, when exertion was most needed, and when, apparently, all

were sensible of its importance and most disposed to make it, the muleteer

charged with the duty of urging on the line of beasts deserted his trust,

preferring to take his chance of regaining the village by descending the

mountain, to struggle uselessly, and at a pace so slow, to reach the

convent. The man was a stranger in the country, who had been

adventitiously employed for this expedition, and was unconnected with

Pierre by any of those ties which are the best pledges of unconquerable

faith, when the interests of self press hard upon our weaknesses. The

wearied beasts, no longer driven, and indisposed to toil, first stopped,

then turned aside to avoid the cutting air and the ascent, and were soon

wandering from the path it was so vitally necessary to keep.

As soon as Pierre was informed of the circumstance, he eagerly issued an

order to collect the stragglers without delay, and at every hazard.

Benumbed, bewildered, and unable to see beyond a few yards, this

embarrassing duty was not easily performed. One after another of the party

joined in the pursuit, for all the effects of the travellers were on the

beasts; and after some ten minutes of delay, blended with an excitement

which helped to quicken the blood and to awaken the faculties of even the

females, the mules were all happily regained. They were secured to each

other head and tail, in the manner so usual in the droves of these

animals, and Pierre turned to resume the order of the march. But on

seeking the path, it was not to be found! Search was made on every side,

and yet none could meet with the smallest of its traces. Broken, rough

fragments of rock, were all that rewarded the most anxious investigation;

and after a few precious minutes uselessly wasted, they all assembled

around the guide, as if by common consent, to seek his counsel. The truth

was no longer to be concealed--the party was lost!

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