“Dost thou anticipate difficulty, friend?” demanded the Italian, leaning forward on his saddle-bow, for his quick observation had caught the examining glance that the guide threw around at the heavens.

“Difficulty is a meaning not easily admitted by a mountaineer, Signore; and I am one of the last to think of it, or to feel its dread.  Still, we are near the end of the season, and these hills are high and bleak, and those that follow are delicate flowers for a stormy heath.  Toil is always sweeter in the remembrance than in the expectation.—­I mean no more, if I mean that.”

Pierre stopped his march as he ceased speaking.  He stood on a little eminence of the path, whence, by looking back, he commanded a view of the opening among the mountains which indicates the site of the valley of the Rhone.  The look was long and understanding; but, when it was ended, he turned and resumed his march with the business-like air of one more disposed to act than to speculate on the future.  But for the few words which had just escaped him, this natural movement would have attracted no attention; and, as it was, it was observed by none but the Signor Grimaldi, who would himself have attached little importance to the whole, had the guide maintained Ins usual pace.

As is common in the Alps, the conductor of the travellers went on foot, leading the whole party at such a gait as he thought most expedient for man and beast.  Hitherto, Pierre had proceeded with sufficient leisure, rendering it necessary for those who followed to observe the same moderation; but he now walked sensibly faster, and frequently so fast as to make it necessary for the mules to break into easy trots, in order to maintain their proper stations.  All this, however, was ascribed by most of the party to the formation of the ground, for, after leaving Liddes, there is a long reach of what, among the upper valleys of the Alps, may by comparison be called a level road.  This industry, too, was thought to be doubly necessary, in order to repair the time lost at the inn, for the sun was already dipping towards the western boundary of their narrow view of the heavens, and the temperature announced, if not a sudden change in the weather, at least the near approach of the periodical turn of the day.

“We travel by a very ancient path;” observed the Signore Grimaldi, when his thoughts had reverted from their reflections on the movements of the guide to the circumstance of their present situation.  “A very reverend path, it might be termed in compliment to the worthy monks who do so much to lessen its dangers, and to its great antiquity.  History speaks often of its use by different leaders of armies, for it has long been a thoroughfare for those who journey between the north and the south, whether it be in strife, or in amity.  In the time of Augustus it was the route commonly used by the Roman legions in their passages to and from Helvetia and Gaul; the followers of Caecinna went by these gorges to their