The guide called to the muleteers, who answered his cries every
minute, for so long as they kept within the sound of each other's voices,
there was no danger of their becoming entirely separated. But, amid the
hollow roaring of the wind, and the incessant pelting of the storm, it was
neither safe nor practicable to venture far asunder. Several little stony
knolls were ascended and descended, and a rippling rill was found, but
without bringing with it any traces of the path. The heart of Pierre began
to chill with the decreasing; warmth of his body, and the firm old man,
overwhelmed with his responsibility while his truant thoughts would
unbidden recur to those whom he had left in his cottage at the foot of the
mountain, gave way at last to his emotions in a paroxysm of grief,
wringing his hands, weeping and calling loudly on God for succor. This
fearful evidence of their extremity worked upon the feelings of Sigismund
until they were wrought up nearly to frenzy. His great physical force
still sustained him, and in an access of energy that was fearfully allied
to madness, he rushed forward into the vortex of snow and hail, as if
determined to leave all to the Providence of God, disappearing from the
eyes of his companion.
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