The corpse, upon being viewed at the inquest, showed no bruises, and it was some time before the surgeons discovered that the neck was broken.  One of the surviving brothers had sustained some unimportant injuries, but the other had suffered no hurt at all.  How these men could fall two thousand feet, almost perpendicularly, and live afterward, is a most strange and unaccountable thing.

A great many women have made the ascent of Mont Blanc.  An English girl, Miss Stratton, conceived the daring idea, two or three years ago, of attempting the ascent in the middle of winter.  She tried it—­and she succeeded.  Moreover, she froze two of her fingers on the way up, she fell in love with her guide on the summit, and she married him when she got to the bottom again.  There is nothing in romance, in the way of a striking “situation,” which can beat this love scene in midheaven on an isolated ice-crest with the thermometer at zero and an Artic gale blowing.

The first woman who ascended Mont Blanc was a girl aged twenty-two—­Mlle. Maria Paradis—­1809.  Nobody was with her but her sweetheart, and he was not a guide.  The sex then took a rest for about thirty years, when a Mlle. d’Angeville made the ascent —­1838.  In Chamonix I picked up a rude old lithograph of that day which pictured her “in the act.”

However, I value it less as a work of art than as a fashion-plate.  Miss d’Angeville put on a pair of men’s pantaloons to climb it, which was wise; but she cramped their utility by adding her petticoat, which was idiotic.

One of the mournfulest calamities which men’s disposition to climb dangerous mountains has resulted in, happened on Mont Blanc in September 1870.  M. D’Arve tells the story briefly in his HISTOIRE du Mont Blanc.  In the next chapter I will copy its chief features.

Chapter XLV
A Catastrophe Which Cost Eleven Lives
[Perished at the Verge of Safety]

On the 5th of September, 1870, a caravan of eleven persons departed from Chamonix to make the ascent of Mont Blanc.  Three of the party were tourists; Messrs. Randall and Bean, Americans, and Mr. George Corkindale, a Scotch gentleman; there were three guides and five porters.  The cabin on the Grands Mulets was reached that day; the ascent was resumed early the next morning, September 6th.  The day was fine and clear, and the movements of the party were observed through the telescopes of Chamonix; at two o’clock in the afternoon they were seen to reach the summit.  A few minutes later they were seen making the first steps of the descent; then a cloud closed around them and hid them from view.

Eight hours passed, the cloud still remained, night came, no one had returned to the Grands Mulets.  Sylvain Couttet, keeper of the cabin there, suspected a misfortune, and sent down to the valley for help.  A detachment of guides went up, but by the time they had made the tedious trip and reached the cabin, a raging storm had set in.  They had to wait; nothing could be attempted in such a tempest.