Chapter XII.
Geneva.




As the wearied stag that has eluded the chasing dogs rests in safety
in the covert of its native mountains, our fugitives at length breathed
freely in the beautiful city of Geneva. Wild and grand as had been
the scenery they passed through, the excitement of the flight and the
fear of seizure had, to them, robbed nature of her charms. Ever and
anon, indeed, they had looked around with searching eyes, but not to
gaze in rapture on the snow-capped mountains, the green valleys, and
crystal streams; it was rather to peer along the road they had passed,
to see if any speck on the horizon would indicate the pursuing horses
of the gendarmes. But now for the first time the magnificence of the
Alpine scenery and the charm of the lovely queen of the Swiss valleys
burst on their view. Mont Blanc, already seen from the north, seemed
to lift its snowy drapery higher into the blue sky, and stood out more
majestic in its crystallized peaks when seen from the bridges of the
Rhone. Another firmament was seen through the clear azure water of
the beautiful lake; and although the air was cold and fresh in the icy
chill of the mountains, and nature stripped of her green, yet our
young heroines were charmed with their first view of the city, and
rejoiced in the prospect of a long sojourn.

There are few spots in the world where the lovers of the sublimities