The old fisherman preceded them, following close to the foot of the cliffs.  After leaving the sandy beach of the bay, the shore was covered with angular rocks and gigantic fragments of granite that made walking extremely painful.  Although the distance was very short, they were already breaking down with fatigue when they reached the entrance to the path, which appeared to Lucan, and perhaps to Julia herself, much less safe and commodious than the fisherman had pretended.  Neither one nor the other, however, attempted to make any objection.  After a few last recommendations and directions, their old guide withdrew, quite pleased with Lucan’s generosity.  Both began then resolutely to scale the cliff which, at this point of the coast, is known as the cliff of Jobourg, and rises some three hundred feet above the level of the ocean.

At the beginning of this ascension, they broke the silence they had hitherto maintained, in order to exchange some jesting remarks upon the charms and comforts of this goat’s-path; but the real and even alarming difficulties of the road soon proved sufficient to absorb their entire attention.  The faintly beaten path disappeared at times on the barren rock, or under some recent land-slide.  They had much trouble finding the broken thread again.  Their feet hesitated upon the polished surface of the stone, or the short and slippery grass.  There were moments when they felt as if they stood upon an almost vertical slope, and if they attempted to stop and take breath, the vast spaces stretching before them, the boundless extent, the dazzling and metallic brilliancy of the sea, caused them a sensation of dizziness and as of a floating motion.  Though the sky was low and cloudy, a heavy and storm-laden heat weighed upon them and stimulated the action of their blood.  Lucan walked first, with a sort of feverish excitement, turning around from time to time to cast a glance at Julia, who followed him closely, then looking up to see some resting-point, some platform upon which they might breathe for a moment in safety.  But above him, as below, there was naught save the perpendicular and sometimes overhanging cliff.  Suddenly Julia called out to him in a tone of anguish: 

“Monsieur! monsieur! please, oh! please—­my head is whirling!”

He walked rapidly back a few steps at the risk of tumbling down, and, grasping her hand energetically: 

“Come! come!” he said, with a smile, “what is the matter?—­a brave person like you!”

“It would require wings!” she said, faintly.

Lucan began at once to climb the path again, supporting and almost dragging Julia, who had nearly fainted.

He had at last the gratification of setting his foot upon a projection of the ground, a sort of narrow esplanade jutting from the rock.  He succeeded in drawing Julia upon it.  But she sank at once in his arms, and her head rested upon his chest.  He could hear her arteries and her heart throbbing with frightful force.  Then, gradually, her agitation subsided.  She lifted her head gently, opened her long eyelashes, and looking at him with rapturous eyes: