At about ten o'clock Gilbert began to make preparations for his expedition.He had no fear of being surprised; his evenings were his own--that was a point agreed upon between the Count and himself.He had also just heard the great door of the corridor roll upon its hinges.On the side of the terrace the thick branches of the trees concealed him from the watchdogs which, had they suspected the adventure, could have given the alarm.There was nothing to fear from the hillock below the precipice; it was frequented only by the young girl who tended the goats and who was not in the habit of allowing them to roam so late among the rocks.
Besides, the night, serene and without a moon, was propitious; no other light than the discreet glistening of the stars which would help to guide him, without being bright enough to betray or disturb him; the air was calm, a scarcely perceptible breeze stirred at intervals the leaves of the trees without agitating the branches.
Thanks to this combination of favorable circumstances, Gilbert's enterprise was not desperate; but he did not dream of deceiving himself in regard to its dangers.
The castle clock had just struck ten when he extinguished his lamp and opened the window.There he remained a long time leaning upon his elbows: his eyes at last familiarized themselves with the darkness, and favored by the glimmering of the stars, he began to recognize with but little effort the actual shape of the surrounding objects.The window was divided in two equal parts by a stone mullion, and had in front a wide shelf of basalt, surrounded by a balustrade.Gilbert fastened one of two knotted ropes with which he had supplied himself securely to the mullion;then he crept upon the ledge of basalt and stood there for a few moments contemplating the precipice in silence.In the gloomy and vaporous gulf which his eyes explored, he distinguished a wall of whitish rocks, which seemed to draw him towards them, and to provoke him to an aerial voyage.He took care not to abandon himself to this fatal attraction, and the uneasiness which it caused him disappearing gradually, he stretched out his head and was able to hang over the abyss with impunity.Proud at having subdued the monster, he gave himself up for a moment to the pleasure of gazing at a feeble light which appeared at a distance of sixty paces, and some thirty feet beneath him.This light came from Stephane's room; he had opened his window and closed the white curtains in such a way that his lamp, placed behind this transparent screen, could serve as a beacon to Gilbert without danger of dazzling him.
"I am expected," said Gilbert to himself.
And immediately, bestriding the balustrade, he descended the swaying rope as readily as if he had never done anything else in his life.
He was now upon the roof.There he met with more difficulty.
Partly covered with zinc and partly with slate, this roof--the whole length of which he must traverse--was so steep and slippery that no one could stand erect on it.Gilbert seated himself and remained motionless for a moment to recover himself, and the better to decide upon his course.A few steps from this point, a huge dormer window rose, with triangular panes of glass, and reached to within two feet of the spout.Gilbert resolved to make his way by this narrow pass, and from tile to tile he pushed himself in that direction.It will readily be believed that he advanced but slowly, much more so on account of his left arm, which, as it still pained him, required to be carefully managed; but by dint of patience and perseverance he passed beyond the dormer window, and at length arrived safely at the extremity of the roof, just in front of Stephane's window.
"God be praised, the most difficult part is over," he said to himself, breathing freely.
But he was far from correct in his supposition.It is true he had now only to descend upon the little roof, cross it, and climb to the window, which was but breast-high; but before descending it was necessary to find some support--stone, wood or iron, to which he could fasten the second rope, which he had brought wound about his neck, shoulders, and waist.Unfortunately he discovered nothing.
At last, in leaning over, he perceived at the outer angle of the wall a large iron corbel, which seemed to sustain the projecting roof; but to his great chagrin, he ascertained at the same time, that the great roof passed three feet beyond the line of the small one, and that if even he should succeed in attaching his second rope to the corbel, the other end of it would float in empty space.
This reflection made him shudder; and turning his eyes from the precipice, he examined the ridge-pole, where he thought he saw a piece of iron projecting.He was not mistaken: it was a kind of ornamental molding, which formed the pediment of the ridge.It was not without great effort that he raised himself even there, and when he found himself seated astride the beam, he rested a few moments to breathe, and to study the strange spectacle before him.
