“That will never be, Monsieur; I am of the frontier, and do not fear the woods. Ah! he has reached the rock safely––’tis the signal.”
De Artigny drew up the cord, testing it to make sure the strands held firm, and made careful noose, into which he slipped my foot.
“Now, Adele, you are ready?”
“Yes, sweetheart; kiss me first.”
“You have no fear?”
“Not with your strong hands to support, but do not keep me waiting long below.”
Ay, but I was frightened as I swung off into the black void, clinging desperately to that slight rope, steadily sinking downward. My body rubbed against the rough logs, and then against rock. Once a jagged edge wounded me, yet I dare not release my grip, or utter a sound. I sank down, down, the strain ever greater on my nerves. I retained no knowledge of distance, but grew apprehensive of what awaited me below. 354 Would the rope reach to the rock? Would I swing clear? Even as these thoughts began to horrify, I felt a hand grip me, and Boisrondet’s whisper gave cheerful greeting.
“It is all right, Madame; release your foot, and trust me. Good, now do not venture to move, until Rene joins us. Faith, he wastes little time; he is coming now.”
I could see nothing, not even the outlines of my companion, who stood holding the cord taut. I could feel the jagged face of the rock, against which I stood, and ventured, by reaching out with one foot, to explore my immediate surroundings. The groping toe touched the edge of the narrow shelf, and I drew back startled at thought of another sheer drop into the black depths. My heart was still pounding when De Artigny found foothold beside me. As he swung free from the cord, his fingers touched my dress.
“A fine test of courage that, Adele,” he whispered, “but with Francois here below there was small peril. Now what next?”