“Blessed ruler of the earth, this is alone the mercy!” exclaimed Melchior de Willading,—­“he has found the path!”

“And honor to thee, Maria—­thou mother of God!” murmured the Italian.

At that moment, a dog came leaping and barking through the snow.  It immediately was scenting and whining among the frozen travellers.  The exclamations of joy and surprise were scarcely uttered before Sigismund, accompanied by another, joined the party.

“Honor and thanks to the good Augustines!” cried the delighted guide; “this is the third good office of the kind, for which I am their debtor!”

“I would it were true, honest Pierre,” answered the stranger.  “But Maso and Nettuno are poor substitutes, in a tempest like this, for the servants and beasts of St. Bernard.  I am a wanderer, and lost like yourselves, and my presence brings little other relief than that which is known to be the fruit of companionship in misery.  The saints have brought me a second time into your company when matters were hanging between life and death!”

Maso made this last remark when, by drawing nearer the group, he had been able to ascertain, by the remains of the light, of whom the party was composed.

“If it is to be as useful now as thou hast already been,” answered the Genoese, “it will be happier for us all, thyself included:  bethink thee quickly of thy expedients, and I will make thee an equal sharer of all that a generous Providence hath bestowed.”

Il Maledetto rarely listened to the voice of the Signor Grimaldi, without a manner of interest and curiosity which, as already mentioned, had more than once struck the latter himself, but which he quite naturally attributed to the circumstance of his person being known to one who had declared himself to be a native of Genoa.  Even at this terrible moment, the same manner was evident and the noble, thinking it a favorable symptom, renewed the already neglected offer of fortune, with a view to quicken a zeal which he reasonably enough supposed would be most likely to be awakened by the hopes of a substantial reward.

“Were there question here, illustrious Signore,” answered Maso, “of steering a barge, of shortenning sail, or of handling a craft of any rig or construction, in gale, squall, hurricane, or a calm among breakers, my skill and experience might be turned to good account; but setting aside the difference in our strength and hardihood, even that lily which is in so much danger of being nipped by the frosts, is not more helpless than I am myself at this moment.  I am no better than yourselves, Signori, and, though a better mountaineer perhaps, I rely on the favor of the saints to be succored, or my time must finish among the snows instead of in the surf of a sea-shore, as, until now, I had always believed would be my fate.”

“But the dog—­thy admirable dog!”

“Ah, eccellenza, Nettuno is but a useless beast, here!  God has given him a thicker mantle, and a warmer dress than to us Christians, but even this advantage will soon prove a curse to my poor friend.  The long hair he carries will quickly be covered with icicles, and, as the snow deepens, it will retard his movements.  The dogs of St. Bernard are smoother, have longer limbs, a truer scent and possess the advantage of being trained to the paths.”