passage. I said instantly that I wanted to do so, but that I would
sooner return at once than endanger the lives of any of them. They
told me there was certainly great danger, they had lost their way,
but were unwilling to give up. For an hour and a half we beat about
in the fog, among the crevasses, trying every way to find the pass,
which is very narrow, wet to the skin, and in constant peril; but we
knew that the descent on the Chamouni side is far more difficult than
that on the Courmayeur side. At last all the guides agreed that it
was impossible to find the way, said the storm was increasing, and
that our only chance was to return at once. So we did, but the
fearful difficulties of the descent I shall never forget. Even in
the finest weather they reckon it very difficult, but yesterday we
could not see the way, we were numbed with intense cold, and
dispirited from being forced to return.

In many places the hail and sleet had washed out the traces we
trusted as guides. After about four hours, we had passed the most
dangerous part, and in another hour we were safely upon the Mer de
Glace, which we hailed with delight: Couttet, who reached the point
of safety first, jumping on the firm ice and shouting to me "Il n'y a
plus de danger, Monsieur." Here we took off the ropes, and drank
some more brandy, and then went as hard as we could, jumping across
crevasses, which two days before I should have thought awkward, as if
they were cart ruts. We reached Chamouni at 8.30 P.M., having been
sixteen and a quarter hours without resting. I was not at all tired;
the guides thanked me for having given so little trouble, and
declared I had gone as well as themselves. Indeed I was
providentially unusually clear-headed and cool, and it was not till
the danger was over that I felt my nerves give way. There was a good
deal of anxiety about us at Chamouni, as it was one of the worst days