This incident recalled the guide to his senses. He
called earnestly on the thoughtless youth to return. No answer was given,
and Pierre hastened back to the motionless and shivering party, in order
to unite all their voices in a last effort to be heard. Cry upon cry was
raised, but each shout was answered merely by the hoarse rushing of the
winds.
"Sigismund! Sigismund!" called one after another, in hurried and alarmed
succession.
"The noble boy will be irretrievably lost!" exclaimed the Signor Grimaldi,
in despair, the services already rendered by the youth, together with his
manly qualities, having insensibly and closely wound themselves around his
heart. "He will die a miserable death, and without the consolation of
meeting his fate in communion with his fellow-sufferers!"
A shout from Sigismund came whirling past, as if the sound were embodied
in the gale.
"Blessed ruler of the earth, this is alone the mercy!" exclaimed Melchior
de Willading,--"he has found the path!"
"And honor to thee, Maria--thou mother of God!" murmured the Italian.
At that moment, a dog came leaping and barking through the snow.
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