The shriek, the
"Sigismund! oh, Sigismund!" of Adelheid, was in his ears, and her cry of
anguish thrilled on every nerve. The athletic young Swiss was a practised
and expert swimmer, or it is improbable that even these strong impulses
could have overcome the instinct of self-preservation. In a tranquil
basin, it would have been no extraordinary or unusual feat for him to
conquer the distance between the Winkelried and the shores of Vaud; but,
like all the others, on casting himself into the water, he was obliged to
shape his course at random, and this, too, amid such a driving spray as
rendered even respiration difficult. As has been said, the waves were
compressed into their bed rather than augmented by the wind; but, had it
been otherwise, the mere heaving and settling of the element, while it
obstructs his speed, offers a support rather than an obstacle to the
practised swimmer.
Notwithstanding all these advantages, the strength of his impulses, and
the numberless occasions on which he had breasted the surges of the
Mediterranean, Sigismund, on recovering from his plunge, felt the fearful
chances of the risk he ran, as the stern soldier meets the hazards of
battle, in which he knows if there is victory there is also death.
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