It is very awkward work, sitting on a
gentle slope of the smoothest possible ice, with a candle in one hand,
and an axe in the other, cutting each step in front; especially when
there is nothing whatever to hold by, and the slope is sufficient to
make it morally certain that in case of a slip all must go together. Of
course, a rope would have made all safe. When I groaned over the maire's
obstinacy, Rosset asked what could possibly be the use of a rope, if I
were to slip; and, to my surprise, I found that he had no idea what I
wanted a rope for. When he learned that, had there been one, he would
have played a large part in the adventure, and that he might have had me
dangling over an ice-fall out of sight round the corner, he added his
groans to mine, and would evidently have enjoyed it all very much. At
the same time, he was prudent, and, as each block of ice made its final
plunge, he told me that was what would happen to me if I went any
farther: and, really, the pictures he drew of deep lakes of icy water
and jagged points of rock, between which I must make my choice down
there, were so unpleasant, that at last I desisted, and pushed myself up
backwards, still in a sitting posture, calling Rosset and the maire the
worst names I could feel justified in using.
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