With Mont Blanc before me and hardly conscious that I was alone, I
pursued my walk, continuing to ascend till my path was obstructed by a
mass of fallen snow. Fascinated with the idea of a better view, I
determined to find a way around it, I climbed higher and higher, now
stopping to admire the interior domes and spires and pyramids that
cluster in this wondrous region, then fancying myself in a vast
cathedral more grand and magnificent than I had ever before seen. The
summit of Mont Blanc seemed to have greatly increased since I began to
ascend, and this, and not looking behind me, rendered me wholly
unconscious of the progress I made.
At length, from the slippery condition of the path and the frequent
use that I was obliged to make of the pole with which I had been
furnished, I became conscious that I had advanced far beyond what I
had at first purposed. Looking back, I could see nothing of the
valley; night was coming on, and the winds sweeping over the snowy
heights made me shiver; at the same time they threatened to hurl me
over the precipice. Go on I could not; to retrace my steps seemed
equally impossible; planting my pole with its long spike deep in the
ice, I attempted to keep my footing. Sending my eyes in every
direction, and hoping that the guides had missed me and followed in
the track, I perceived an immense mass of ice, one of the very turrets
that I had so greatly admired, trembling and just ready to fall.
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