"One morning (it was in late May)," says Monsieur ----, "my Fidèle and I
left the Hôtel du Mont Blanc for a ramble amongst the hills. We were a
little adventurous, because we were innocent. We took no guide but our
commonsense; and that served us very ill--or very well, according to the
point of view. Ours was that of the birds, singing to the sky and
careless of the snake in the grass so long as they can pipe their tune.
Of a surety that is the only course. If one would make provision against
every chance of accident, one must dematerialize. To die is the only way
to secure oneself from fatality.

"Still, it is a wise precaution, I will admit, not to eat of all hedge
fruit because blackberries are sweet. Some day, after the fiftieth
stomach-ache, we shall learn wisdom, my Fidèle and I.

"'Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.' That, I know, comes into the
English gospel.

"Well, I will tell you, I am content to be considered of the first; and
my Fidèle is assuredly of the second. Yet did she fear, or I rush in? On
the contrary, I have a little laughing thought that it was the angel
inveighed against the dulness of caution when the fool would have
hesitated.

"Now, it was before the season of the Alps; and the mountain aubergistes
were, for the most part, not arrived at their desolate hill-taverns. Nor
were guides at all in evidence, being yet engaged, the sturdy souls, over
their winter occupations. One, no doubt, we could have procured, had we
wished it; but we did not. We would explore under the aegis of no
cicerone but our curiosity. That was native to us, if the district was