I calculated I must be near indeed to the end of the rope, and there was no doubt that I was not far from the end of my own resources.  I began to be light-headed and to be tempted to let go,—­now arguing that I was certainly arrived within a few feet of the level and could safely risk a fall, anon persuaded I was still close at the top and it was idle to continue longer on the rock.  In the midst of which I came to a bearing on plain ground, and had nearly wept aloud.  My hands were as good as flayed, my courage entirely exhausted, and, what with the long strain and the sudden relief, my limbs shook under me with more than the violence of ague, and I was glad to cling to the rope.

But this was no time to give way.  I had (by God’s single mercy) got myself alive out of that fortress; and now I had to try to get the others, my comrades.  There was about a fathom of rope to spare; I got it by the end, and searched the whole ground thoroughly for anything to make it fast to.  In vain:  the ground was broken and stony, but there grew not there so much as a bush of furze.

‘Now then,’ thought I to myself, ’here begins a new lesson, and I believe it will prove richer than the first.  I am not strong enough to keep this rope extended.  If I do not keep it extended the next man will be dashed against the precipice.  There is no reason why he should have my extravagant good luck.  I see no reason why he should not fall—­nor any place for him to fall on but my head.’

From where I was now standing there was occasionally visible, as the fog lightened, a lamp in one of the barrack windows, which gave me a measure of the height he had to fall and the horrid force that he must strike me with.  What was yet worse, we had agreed to do without signals:  every so many minutes by Laclas’ watch another man was to be started from the battlements.  Now, I had seemed to myself to be about half an hour in my descent, and it seemed near as long again that I waited, straining on the rope for my next comrade to begin.  I began to be afraid that our conspiracy was out, that my friends were all secured, and that I should pass the remainder of the night, and be discovered in the morning, vainly clinging to the rope’s end like a hooked fish upon an angle.  I could not refrain, at this ridiculous image, from a chuckle of laughter.  And the next moment I knew, by the jerking of the rope, that my friend had crawled out of the tunnel and was fairly launched on his descent.  It appears it was the sailor who had insisted on succeeding me:  as soon as my continued silence had assured him the rope was long enough, Gautier, for that was his name, had forgot his former arguments, and shown himself so extremely forward, that Laclas had given way.  It was like the fellow, who had no harm in him beyond an instinctive selfishness.  But he was like to have paid pretty dearly for the privilege.  Do as I would, I could not keep the rope as I could have