Chapter 22

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