Ralph’s first impression was terrible. A starless night, crushing, implacable, a night of thick fog, weighed stilly and heavily on the invisible lake and the indistinct cliffs. His eyes were of no more use to him than the eyes of the blind. His ears heard only silence. The noise of the waterfalls was no longer heard: the fog absorbed them. And in this bottomless gulf it was necessary to see, to hear, to move, and to reach the goal. Sluices? Not for a moment did he think of them. It would have been folly to play the fatal game of hunting for them. No; his objective was the two ruffians. And they were in hiding. Fearing doubtless the direct attack on an adversary such as he, they were keeping prudently under cover, with every sense alert. Where to find them? The icy water in which he was standing, breast-high, chilled him to the marrow so painfully that he did not think it possible to swim to the flood-gates. Moreover how would he be able to open them without knowing where the machinery was? He stumbled along the edge of the cliff, reached the submerged steps, and mounted to the path which hugged the face of the cliff. The ascent of it was very difficult. Suddenly he stopped. At a distance, through the fog, a faint light was shining. Where? It was impossible to be sure. Was it on the lake? Was it on the top of the cliffs? In any case it faced him, that is to say it was shining from the vicinity of the passage, from the very spot, that is, from which the two ruffians had fired. It looked as if they must be camping on it. And that light could not be seen from the grotto, which showed that they were taking precautions and was a further proof of their being there. He hesitated. Should he follow the path by land with all its windings, over the peaks and down into the ravines, climb up rocks, descend into hollows, in which he would lose sight of the precious light? The thought of Aurelie, imprisoned in the heart of that awful granite sepulchre, made up his mind for him. Quickly he came tumbling down the path he had mounted and sprang from the steps into the lake. He thought that he was going to suffocate. The torturing iciness of the water was unbearable. Though the distance was not more than two hundred to two hundred and fifty yards, he was on the point of giving it up—so far beyond human strength did it seem. But the thought of Aurelie never left him. He saw her under that pitiless ceiling. The water was pursuing its ferocious course, which nothing could stop or slacken. Aurelie was listening to its diabolical chuckling and feeling its icy chill.