from Jean and caresses from Hilda restored her good humour, and the work
of the evening commenced. "Follow me closely," said the girl; "let your
eye be keen and your step firm: the descent is no child's sport." Jean
looked at the cliff, fitted for the flight of gull or cormorant rather
than the foot of man, still less of gentle maiden: Hilda was already
over the brink: Jean, following, saw that she was on a path no broader
than a goat's track; the difficulties of the descent need not be
described; it was possible for a clear head and practised foot, to the
nervous or the unsteady the attempt must have been fatal. Arrived at
the bottom the climbers found themselves in a small cleft strewn with
huge boulders; the rocks towered high above them. Hilda glanced at the
moon. "We must be quick," said she, showing him some deep caverns in the
rock; "there," she said, "is your home. Here you are safe; my mother
alone knows the secret of these caves. I must mount again; you must
climb with me to mark the path more closely." She sprang to the rock and
commenced to ascend as nimbly as she had come down. Jean saw the
necessity of taking every precaution; he noted carefully each feature of
the track. Arrived at the summit she bade him farewell. She pointed out
a place where Tita would from time to time leave him provisions, and
said that he would find water in the caves; she then tripped quickly
off. Jean did not linger, seeing that if he did so light would fail him
for his return. He crossed the track for the third time, reached the
caves, and slept soundly till dawn.

When he awoke he inspected his strange retreat. He was in a large hall,
two hundred feet long, and some fifty feet high and broad; this chamber
was entered by a small orifice of no great length, through which he had
passed on the preceding night; it was warm, and dry except where the
stream of which Hilda had spoken trickled through to the sea. It was the
fissure now known as the Creux Mahie, and to which an easy access has