"Indeed, yes, to the Montanvert, monsieur. And beyond--yes, beyond, to
the Jardin."
Chayne broke in upon his bitter humor.
"I want the best guide in Chamonix. I want him at once. I must start by
daylight."
Michel glanced up in surprise. But what he saw in Chayne's face stopped
all remonstrance.
"For what ascent, monsieur?" he asked.
"The Brenva route."
"Madame will not go!"
"No, I go alone. I must go quickly. There is very much at stake. I beg
you to help me."
In answer Michel took his hat down from a peg, and while he did so Chayne
turned quickly to his wife. She had risen from her chair, but she had not
interrupted him, she had asked no questions, she had uttered no prayer.
She stood now, waiting upon him with a quiet and beautiful confidence
which deeply stirred his heart.
"Thank you, sweetheart!" he said, quietly. "You can trust. I thank you,"
and he added, gravely: "Whatever happens--you and I--there is no
altering that."
Michel opened the door.
"I will walk with you into Chamonix, and I will bring the best guides I
can find to your hotel."
They passed out, and crossed the fields quickly to Chamonix.
"Do you go to your hotel, monsieur," said Revailloud, "and leave the
choice to me. I must go about it quietly. If you were to come with me, we
should have to choose the first two guides upon the rota and that would
not do for the Brenva climb.
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