Our first effort was to pass a hill composed of loose fragments of stone, which gave way at every step. This conducted us to the foot of the precipice, on the west side, where we paused, under a shelving rock, till the rain had somewhat abated. Thence we went a little way round the base, and found the path, if path it could be called, for it was nothing but a narrow irregular break in the rock, almost as perpendicular as the rock itself, and only more practicable on account of the steps formed in it by the broken layers of stone.
We soon passed this, and then walking along a narrow ledge formed in the precipice, we came to another natural stair of the same kind, which conducted us to the height of four or five hundred feet, where we scared two eagles, (or I rather believe vultures) from the rock, which continued screaming and wheeling round our heads during great part of the ascent; and doubtless we had their best wishes for our speedy passage to the bottom.
Turning then in a degree away from the Marbarée, we came to a piece of turf slanting in an extreme angle, and so slippy with the rain, that we could scarcely keep our feet. We passed then again to the east, and once more, to my great satisfaction, began climbing the firm rock; but this did not last, and we had to change several times from rock to turf, before I found myself at the summit of the amphitheatre, on a level with the top of the cascade, which, as the clouds began to clear away, I could plainly perceive projected violently over the edge of the opposite precipice, losing itself in mist below.
It is seldom that one has an opportunity of looking down a perpendicular height of fourteen hundred feet: and I stood enjoying the sensation for much longer than I believe my guide judged à propos, for he seemed scarcely to know whether he ought to let me stand there or not. The tinkling of the sheep-bell, and a loud barking, two sounds I little expected to hear there, roused me from my dreaming, and conducted us towards the flock of a Spanish shepherd, which was wandering at large under the care of two enormous dogs, who now appeared mounted on the projecting rocks that flanked their charge, baying loudly at our approach.
No shepherd was with the flock, but we soon discovered his abode by a large iron pot of milk that stood at the entrance. He had chosen the little hollow under a shelf of the rock, and fenced it in with a wall of loose stones which rose breast-high, forming a dwelling of about seven feet by four. I went up to the little wall and looked over upon the shepherd, who lay extended on his cloak reading. I asked him what he was about, and looking up without the least appearance of surprise, he answered that he was studying. I demanded what was the subject of his study, to which he replied by stretching out his arm towards me, with a dirty dog's-eared book of Spanish letters on geography. It is probable that the conversation might have lasted for some time in the same manner, he lying on his back, and I looking over the wall, had not Rondo come up, and desired him to give us some milk. The call on his hospitality instantly roused him, and he sprang upon his feet, one of the most picturesque figures I ever beheld.
He was a youth of sixteen or seventeen, of very perfect, though almost gigantic proportions. Before he came out of his den, he placed his large broad-brimmed hat on his head, which gave a sort of bandit expression to his full dark eyes and sunburnt countenance: He wore two double-breasted Spanish jackets, covered with hanging buttons. His feet were shod with the sort of mountain sandal called espardin, and in a crimson sash round his waist, he wore a sharp-pointed knife, nearly two feet long, which though only used for the simple purpose of cutting his bread, might have served very well on more murderous occasions. In short, he was a most romantic sort of gentleman in appearance; but he speedily lighted a fire, boiled us a large portion of his milk, and pressed us to his simple treat, with a cheerfulness and frankness smacking of ancient days. He joined with us too in conversation; told us that it was nearly a month since he had seen a human creature, and then it was his father, who had brought him six loaves of the black bread he set before us.
The shepherd seemed anxious to know what brought us to the Brèche de Roland; and when I told him, in the best Spanish I could muster, that it was but simple curiosity, he shook his head with a smile. I asked him why he did so, doubting whether he understood me; but he answered, that he could not imagine any one coming to such a place unless it were to feed sheep.
One thing, however, he told us, which set our minds perfectly at ease with respect to the safety of our further progress. He assured us that there were no clouds on the other side of the breach, and that there would be no storm that day. My guide seemed to place perfect confidence in his judgment, and with this prognostic we again set out.
After about half an hour's more climbing, the clouds entirely cleared away, the wind blew strongly, the sun shone glittering on the snow before us, and all announced as fine a day as we could have desired. the mountain was all shining as if strewed with diamonds, for the last drops of rain were crowded upon every blade of grass, and nested in the bosom of every flower. Nature, as if to mock the snows, had covered the whole turf to their very edge with blossoms, and the rich blue iris, and a very delicate white flower I had never seen before, were actually growing within the verge of the region of frost. As most of these had already past in the valleys, I gathered as many as I could for Madame de Gontaut; and then having fixed our crampons, which were but clumsy, we proceeded to climb the ice.
To the east was an immense glacier stretching over the highest part of the Marborée. It was of deep blue ice, and I could distinguish layer above layer, resting nearly vertically, which prevented all approach on that side. Stretching east and west, was the rocky wall, which forms the highest crest of the Pyrenees, and due south, cleft through as with a sword, the Brèche de Roland; but between us and it lay another glacier, at an inclination of about sixty degrees, which made the direct ascent impracticable. To the westward, however, was a large tract of soft snow, by which we were enabled to make our way to the side of the latter glacier, and cross instead of attempting to climb it. We proceeded very well up the snow, for about a quarter of an hour, at the end of which time we came to ice covered with drift, and rendered unsound by the percolation of a stream.