When We Saw This, The Guide Said To Me, 'Hold Your Stick Thus, If You
Are Strong Enough, And Let Yourself Slide.' I Could Just Hold It, In
Spite Of The Cold.
Life was returning to me with intolerable pain.
We
shot down the slope almost as quickly as falling, but it was evidently
safe to do so, as the end was clearly visible, and had no break or
rock in it.
So we reached the plain below, and entered the little shed, and thence
looking up, we saw the storm above us; but no one could have told it
for what it was. Here, below, was silence, and the terror and raging
above seemed only a great trembling cloud occupying the mountain. Then
we set our faces down the ravine by which we had come up, and so came
down to where the snow changed to rain. When we got right down into
the valley of the Rhone, we found it all roofed with cloud, and the
higher trees were white with snow, making a line like a tide mark on
the slopes of the hills.
I re-entered 'The Bear', silent and angered, and not accepting the
humiliation of that failure. Then, having eaten, I determined in equal
silence to take the road like any other fool; to cross the Furka by a
fine highroad, like any tourist, and to cross the St Gothard by
another fine highroad, as millions had done before me, and not to look
heaven in the face again till I was back after my long detour, on the
straight road again for Rome.
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