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The Initials. Baroness Jemima Montgomery Tautphoeus
laughing girls, in their long habits, young men carelessly loitering near them.
They were to visit a well-preserved ruin in the neighbourhood—so often seen, it is true, that everything was thought of more than the nominal object. Camp-stools, servants in livery, champagne and pine-apples began to chase each other in pleasing confusion before Hamilton’s mind’s eye—when the distant report of a gun destroyed the “baseless fabric” of his “waking vision,” and he started up, remembering with some amazement that he was engaged in a chamois-hunt! “It is of little consequence,” he thought; “for had I fired ten times, I should never have hit one.”
He plunged into the wood, and commenced a regular and steady ascent, which he continued even after the fir-tree had begun to dwindle into a dwarfy shrub, and the beautiful wild rhododendron had disappeared altogether. His path became steeper and more rocky, and at length he was reduced to the necessity of creeping round the intervening obstacles, and of supporting himself by the few plants which vegetated among the fissures of the rocks. Not a sound broke the silence around him; the moon slowly rose above the darkening horizon, which was slightly streaked with a faint crimson tinge, leaving on the dim grey of the mountain tops the still perceptible reflection of the fading sunlight. The valleys were in the deepest shade, and from the dispersed peasant-houses lights began to twinkle. Hamilton looked carefully round him, to ascertain, if possible, his position, before he descended into the thick wood which lay beneath him. The falling of some loose stones and a fragment of rock in his vicinity made him start; but immediately supposing it to be some of his former companions, he called out that if anyone were there he wished they would wait for him: a clattering of stones and scampering ensued, accompanied by a sharp sound, perfectly incomprehensible to him, until on a projecting rock far above him he perceived three chamois, standing in strong relief between him and the cloudless sky, and gazing irresolutely around them. They allowed him to examine them for some time, as the distance and moonlight would admit; but as he endeavoured to approach nearer, they suddenly sprang up the rocks, and sending a shower of stones, and sand over him, disappeared in a few seconds. By this time he had lost all idea of where he might be, and although extremely unwilling to increase his distance from the châlet, he saw the absolute necessity of still climbing in order to see into the Alpine valley, in which it was situated. Perfectly unacquainted with the irregularities of the mountain, he kept as much as possible in the light, following occasionally what he supposed to be paths, but which were in fact the stony beds of the mountain rivulets, formed by the thawing snow in spring. He wandered on in this manner, sometimes ascending, sometimes descending, for more than two hours, looking around in every direction, but not a trace could he find of the châlet, nor, indeed, at last, of any habitation whatever. On reaching a part of the ridge of the mountain, he was somewhat startled to find that the other side descended in a perpendicular precipice of rock, apparently so smooth and destitute of verdure that it might be supposed a wall. He stopped—and all A. Z. had said to him recurred at once to his memory. The moon was still too young to remain visible to him much longer, and it would be totally dark by the time he reached the wood; he saw no alternative but to stay where he was until morning, and had actually chosen a place of repose, when the distant sound of guns fired at regular intervals, made him imagine that he, and no longer the chamois, was the object of pursuit. A faint echo of human voices too reached his ear, and he shouted loudly in answer. A frightfully distinct echo from the mountain opposite made him desist; he feared that his deliverers might be misled, and he now hurried along in the direction from whence the welcome sounds had first reached him. Keeping on the top of the mountain, and avoiding any place where the shadows of the rocks prevented him from seeing his way distinctly, he walked and ran, and sprang and vaulted with his long pole, until the moon, disappearing behind a mountain, created a sort of half-night, which again forced him to a halt. Suspecting that the echo had misled him, and fearing that he was farther than ever from his companions, he perceived without regret the gradual cessation of the treacherous sounds, and at length, with a sort of desperate English calmness, he seated himself on the ground, and after a few not very successful efforts to place himself comfortably against a sandy bank, he took a cigar, lighted it, and crossing his arms, resigned himself to his fate. The night proved darker than he expected, and he gazed on the starry firmament until his thoughts became confused, and his eyes closed in heavy slumber, which remained unbroken until the cold breeze of breaking day caused a chill to pass through his stiffened limbs. He rose, and looked about him with astonishment for some minutes, and then, with long strides, began a rapid descent.
Great was afterwards his annoyance to find that, instead of arriving, as he had expected, at the châlet, he had quite reached the base of the mountain, and that merely a narrow ravine separated him from another of precisely the same description. He stood for a moment irresolute, and felt—very hungry. The sun had begun to colour vividly the eastern sky, and after a little consideration, he found that returning to the alp would oblige him to mount again, and he was still very uncertain in what direction it lay; whereas, if he took another course, he would probably in an hour or two find some opening into one of the surrounding roads, where he could enter the first peasant’s house he should see, and procure something to eat. In this conjecture he was perfectly right. Sooner than he had dared to hope, a cheerful house, prettily situated on a green hill, and surrounded by fruit-trees, rejoiced his eyes. Some wild sunburnt little boys and girls announced his approach, and when he came to the door he found a large family assembled. His wants were soon made known; and a table, placed before the wooden bench which ran along the front of the house, was soon covered with a rustic, but not frugal breakfast—an enormous loaf of dark-brown bread, a basin of milk, covered with thick yellow cream, some pounds of butter, honey, cheese, fried eggs, and a sort of mashed-up omelette, called Schmarn. While Hamilton was eating, the peasant’s wife stood near, her youngest child on her arm, and a couple of others leaning against her. She assured him if he had not been in such a hurry she could have made some coffee for him; she always bought coffee at the fair, and drank it every Sunday! She was so sorry her husband was not at home, but she expected him every moment; he had gone up to the alp at daybreak, with fresh rolls for the breakfast of the gentlemen who had been out shooting.
As she spoke, a loud gay voice was heard in the distance, jodling, and the children all rushed down the hill and disappeared in the wood.
“That is probably your husband,” said Hamilton; “I shall be glad to hear what sport they have had on the alp.”
“Oh! you were there, too—perhaps—I have been thinking and thinking where you could have spent the night; you did not look as if you had come from the town!”
“I dare say not,” said Hamilton, laughing; “most probably I look as if I had spent the night among the rocks, and that is actually the case; I lost my way yesterday evening.”
The peasant soon after joined them, and to Hamilton’s eager inquiries as to the result of the hunt, replied that a chamois had been shot in the evening, but that the disappearance of a young Englishman who had gone out with them had spoiled everything; they had searched for him until dark, and that Baron Z—had been out to look for him before daybreak; even the ladies had joined in searching, and one of them had been up nearly to the top of one of the mountains with the goatherd.
“Good heavens!” cried Hamilton, springing on his feet, “they are searching for me. I must go to them directly.”
“It will do just as well if I send Peter to let them know you are here,” said the peasant calling one of his sons, and giving him the necessary directions: after which, murmuring the words, “with your leave,” he seated himself at a little distance, and glancing towards Hamilton’s outstretched feet, he observed with a smile, “You would never have got up and down the alp again with those boots!”
“I believe you are right,” answered Hamilton, listlessly moving them so as to have a better view; “they certainly do look the worse for wear. I never was so ill shod in my life!”
“I dare say yesterday you might have danced at a wedding in them, but for the mountains they are not the right sort.”
“Most true,” said Hamilton; “and if I ever make an excursion of this kind again, I shall not forget it. This is the first time in my life that I have been in a mountainous country.”