“Do you think, nevertheless, that I could, without too much danger, undertake the ascension of the Jungfrau?”
“I ‘ll answer for it, my head in the fire, Monsieur Tartarin... You have only to trust to your guide, vé!”
“And if I turn giddy?”
“Shut your eyes.”
“And if I slip?”
“Let yourself go... just as they do on the stage... sort of trap-doors... there ‘s no risk...”
“Ah! if I could have you there to tell me all that, to keep repeating it to me... Look here, my good fellow, make an effort, and come with me.”
Bompard desired nothing better, pécaïré! but he had those Peruvians on his hands for the rest of the season; and, replying to his old friend, who expressed surprise at seeing him accept the functions of a courier, a subaltern,—
“I could n’t help myself, Monsieur Tartarin,” he said. “It is in our engagement. The Company has the right to employ us as it pleases.”
On which he began to count upon his fingers his varied avatars during the last three years... guide in the Oberland, performer on the Alpine horn, chamois-hunter, veteran soldier of Charles X., Protestant pastor on the heights...