Godfrey woke again to find himself lying upon a flat piece of snow.Recollection came back to him with a pang, and he thought that he musthave fallen.
Then he heard voices, and saw faces looking at him as through a mist,also he felt something in his mouth and throat, which seemed to burnthem. One of the voices, it was that of the guide, said:
"Good, good! He finds himself, this young English hero. See, his eyesopen; more cognac, it will make him happy, and prevent the shock. Nevermind the other one; he is all right, the stupid."
Godfrey sat up and tried to lift his arm to thrust away the flask whichhe saw approaching him, but he could not.
"Take that burning stuff away, Karl, confound you," he said.
Then Karl, a good honest fellow, who was on his knees beside him, threwhis arms about him, and embraced him in a way that Godfrey thoughttheatrical and unpleasant, while all the others, except the rescuedman, who lay semi-comatose, set up a kind of paean of praise, like aGreek chorus.
"Oh! shut up!" said Godfrey, "if we waste so much time we shall neverget to the top," a remark at which they all burst out laughing.
"They talk of Providence on the Alps," shouted Karl in stentoriantones, while he performed a kind of war-dance, "but that's the kind ofprovidence for me," and he pointed to Godfrey. "Many things have I seenin my trade as guide, but never one like this. What? To cut the ropefor the sake of Monsieur there," and he pointed to number two, whoseshare in the great adventure was being overlooked, "before givinghimself to almost certain death for the sake of Monsieur with the weakheart, who had no business on a mountain; to stretch over the precipiceas the line parted, and hold Monsieur with the weak heart for all thatwhile, till I could get a noose round him--yes, to go on holding himafter he himself was almost dead--without a mind! Good God! never hasthere been such a story in my lifetime on these Alps, or in that of myfather before me."
Then came the descent, Godfrey supported on the shoulder of thestalwart Karl, who, full of delight at this great escape from tragedy,and at having a tale to tell which would last him for the rest of hislife, "jodelled" spontaneously at intervals in his best "large-tip"voice, and occasionally skipped about like a young camel, while"Monsieur with the weak heart" was carried in a chair provided to bearelderly ladies up the lower slopes of the Alps.
Some swift-footed mountaineer had sped down to the village ahead ofthem and told all the story, with the result that when they reached theoutskirts of the place, an excited crowd was waiting to greet them,including two local reporters for Swiss journals.
One of these, who contributed items of interest to the English pressalso, either by mistake, or in order to make his narrative moreinteresting, added to a fairly correct description of the incident, astatement that the person rescued by Godfrey was a young lady. Atleast, so the story appeared in the London papers next morning, underthe heading of "Heroic Rescue on the Alps," or in some instances of, "AYoung English Hero."
Among the crowd was the Pasteur, who beamed at Godfrey through his bluespectacles, but took no part in these excited demonstrations. When theywere back at their hotel, and the doctor who examined Godfrey, hadannounced that he was suffering from nothing except exhaustion andbadly sprained muscles, he said simply:
"I do not compliment you, my dear boy, like those others, because youacted only as I should have expected of you in the conditions. Still, Iam glad that in this case another was not added to my long list ofdisappointments."
"_I_ didn't act at all, Pasteur," blurted out Godfrey. "A voice, Ithought it was Miss Ogilvy's, told me what to do, and I obeyed."
The old gentleman smiled and shook his head, as he answered:
"It is ever thus, young Friend. When we wish to do good we hear a voiceprompting us, which we think that of an angel, and when we wish to doevil, another voice, which we think that of a devil, but believe me,the lips that utter both of them are in our own hearts. The rest comesonly from the excitement of the instant. There in our hearts the angeland the devil dwell, side by side, like the two figures in a villageweather-clock, ready to appear, now one and now the other, as thebreath of our nature blows them."
"But I heard her," said Godfrey stubbornly.
"The excitement of the instant!" repeated the Pasteur blandly. "Had Ibeen so situated I am quite certain that I should have heard all thedeceased whom I have ever known," and he patted Godfrey's dark hairwith his long, thin hand, thanking God in his heart for the bravespirit which He had been pleased to give to this young man, who hadgrown so dear to one who lacked a son. Only this he did in silence, nordid he ever allude to the subject afterwards, except as a commonplacematter-of-course event.
Notwithstanding the "jodellings" which continued outside his window toa late hour, and the bouquet of flowers which was sent to him by thewife of the mayor, who felt that a distinction had been conferred upontheir village that would bring them many visitors in future seasons,and ought to be suitably acknowledged, Godfrey soon dropped into a deepsleep. But in the middle of the night it passed from him, and he awokefull of terrors. Now, for the first time, he understood what he hadescaped, and how near he had been to lying, not in a comfortable bed,but a heap of splintered bones and mangled flesh at the foot of aprecipice, whence, perhaps, it would have been impossible ever torecover his remains. In short, his nerves re-acted, and he feltanything but a hero, rather indeed, a coward among cowards. Nor did hewish ever to climb another Alp; the taste had quite departed from him.To tell the truth, a full month went by before he was himself again,and during that month he was as timid as a kitten, and as careful ofhis personal safety as a well-to-do old lady unaccustomed to travel.