now on a level with the roof; and if I did not
get up every day to clear the chimney, we
should soon be unable to open the trap or to
light a fire.

It vexes me that my grandfather cannot
sometimes step out of this confined vault into the
open air. I asked him this morning what he
longed for the most, and he said, "A ray of
sunshine. Nevertheless," he added, "our lot is
much less wretched than that of very many
prisoners, a number of whom have not deserved
imprisonment any more than we have. We
enjoy a certain amount of liberty in our seclusion,
and we find subjects of amusement which
are not attainable inside the four walls of a
dungeon—we are not visited every day by a
suspicious or cruel or even an indifferent gaoler.
The evils which we suffer from the hand of God
have never the bitterness of those which we
believe we may attribute to the injustice of men;
and lastly, my boy, we are not in solitary
confinement; and, if your presence here causes me
to feel regret for your sake, which I make no
attempt to conceal, it also sustains me, and is
almost necessary to my existence. I do not
think you are very dissatisfied with your companion;
everything about us, even up to Blanchette,
is some alleviation to our captivity, and I assure
you it is not merely for her milk's sake that I
feel attached to her."

These last words set me thinking, and I
proposed to let the poor creature live more in our
company. " She is uncomfortable all alone in
the stable," I said; " she bleats frequently, and
that may do her harm, and us also. What is
there to hinder us from letting her have a
corner here? There is plenty of room for all
of us. She will be much obliged to us for
the honour we do her." I nailed a little
manger against the wall, in the corner where
she would be the least in our way, fixing it
firmly with a couple of stakes; and, without
further delay, introduced Blauchette into our
sitting-room.

How delighted she is at, the change! She
does nothing but thank us, in her way. If it
went on so, she would become fatiguing; but
when she is accustomed to her novel position,
she will be quieter. At this very moment, while
I am committing these details to paper, she is
lying on some fresh litter, chewing the cud
peaceably, and gazing at me so contentedly that
she seems to guess I am writing her
history. Hitherto, she has wanted for nothing,
and at least there is one happy being inside the
châlet.

December 3.—The sunshine to-day attracted
me out on the roof. Cold dry weather has
succeeded to the continued snow-storms. How
my eyes were dazzled by the great white
expanse, and how beautiful the forest looked! I
hardly dared mention to grandfather the
delight it gave me; but it suggested that I might
dig away the snow in front of the door, and
make a sloping path upwards from it to the
surface of the snowdrift. I have already set
to work, and my grandfather will soon enjoy
what he has long been wishing for, a ray of
sunshine.

December 4.—My task progresses; I labour
at it as long as my grandfather will allow. The
idea had struck him before it occurred to me,
and I have scolded him for not communicating
it. He was afraid that the exertion and the
moisture to my feet might do me harm.

December 5.—We can step out of our house;
the path is made; I have had the pleasure of leading
my grandfather along it, supporting him on
one side. We remained several minutes at the
end of our avenue, which is not long; but the
day was gloomy, and it made us very sad to see
the black forest, the cloudy sky, and the snow
surrounding us with the silence of death. We
beheld only one living creature, a bird of prey,
which passed at a distance with a hoarse
scream. It flew down towards the valley in the
direction of our village. The pagans would
have derived some omen from it, but we have
no such superstition.

December 9.—What a dreadful day! I had
yet to learn what a hurricane up in the
mountains was like. I can hardly describe what
passed out of doors. We heard a frightful
roaring. When we tried to open the door ajar,
the châlet was filled with a whirlwind of snow;
the wind rushed in with such fury that we had
great difficulty in closing the door again. We were
obliged to drop the trap of the chimney; and,
besides, it was impossible to light a fire, because the
smoke was continually driven down again. We
ate our milk without boiling it. My grandfather
keeps up my courage by his calm behaviour, as
well as by his grave and pious words. At the
time when one would say that the wrath of God
was hanging over us, he speaks to me of His
compassion and His mercy. On trying a second
time to open the door, we found that a mass of
snow had fallen back upon it, so that we are
completely imprisoned as before. What I most
regret is my window; it is drifted up again.
Decidedly, as soon as the weather permits, I
will make a fresh attempt to regain a little light
and liberty.

December 11.—The cold is much sharper.
Although we are buried under the snow, which
perhaps prevents our hearing the storm, the
frost strikes to our very bones. My grandfather
says that, to be felt so keenly inside the chalet,
the cold must be extremely intense. He
supposes that the wind has changed to the
north.

December 13.—  I was milking the goat, while
my grandfather lighted the fire. Suddenly, she
pricked up her ears, as if she heard some
extraordinary noise. She trembled violently from
head to foot.

"What is the matter, Blanchette?" I asked,
caressing her. I could now hear the noises;
they were low and distant howlings, which
gradually grew louder and louder. We then heard
hundreds of feet pattering on the crisp snow
overhead; we heard a rush of animals, a fierce
struggle above us, mingled with horrid cries
that made my blood run cold.