"Will you not kiss your dead love?"
Sanga-moarta did not so much as look—pulled his hand away from his mother's, and went with the two strangers out into the deep darkness of the forest.
All night long these adventurers wandered through a deep valley from which they could just catch sight of the giant summits rising on all sides; directly overhead glimmered a strip of starry sky. Toward morning they reached the midst of the mountains. What a sight that was! Along the shining crystal peaks stretched dark green forest—on one side rose a crag of basalt, with columns like organ pipes in rows, topped by trees. In front of this crag of basalt a white cloud moved, but the summit and base of the rock were to be seen; from time to time the lightning flashed through the cloud but it was some time before the roll of the thunder rang through the organ pipes. At a little distance is a cleft in the rocks, and the two parts look as if their jagged edges would fit together. Through the ravine several fathoms wide, a branch of the cold Szomas forces its way and is lost again among the thick oaks along the shore. In another place the rocks are piled up in stairs not intended however for human foot, for each step is as high as a house. Again the rocks are tumbled together in such a way that the entire mountain mass would fall into other forms if the rock beneath were moved from its position. Everything indicates that here the rule of man has found its limit. From the dizzying height not a single hut is seen; on all sides are bold crags and yawning chasms through which the mountain streams roll tumultuously. Only the ibex wanders from crag to crag.
"Which way are we going?" Clement asked his guide, looking anxiously about, where there was every possibility of losing oneself irrecoverably.
"Trust yourself to me," replied Sanga-moarta, and he led them with confident knowledge of the place through this unfrequented region.
In places where a path seemed hardly possible, he knew where to find the way over the cleft rocks. He had noticed every root that could help one in climbing; every tree-trunk bridging a chasm; every narrow ledge of rock where one could step by clinging to its projections; in short, he moved through this labyrinth with the utmost confidence.
"We are near the end," he said, suddenly, after he had climbed a steep wall of rock and looked over the country, and he stretched his hand down and drew the others up after him. The scene was now changed. The declivity of the rock that they had mounted was under them; a smooth surface in semi-circular shape formed a basin hundreds of fathoms deep, where the dark green water of a mountain lake gleamed. There was no breeze but the lake was broken with foam. The opposite side of the basin was formed by a group of mountains with fir trees at the base, and where the two mountain masses came together a small stream flowed into this lake, over which the ice that tumbled into the valley made a crystal arch.
"Where will that bring us?" Clement asked, with horror.
"To the head of the stream," replied Sanga-moarta. "It has made its way through the ice and if we follow its track we shall reach the place we seek."