Before setting-off on my return to Cauterets, I heard, from the lips of the man with whom I had been conversing, the sad particulars of this harrowing event. Never could the common phrase, that speaks of "painful curiosity," have been more applicable than it was in my case, as I stood and listened to him. Poor fellow; he had been an eye-witness. He saw my emotion. "Monsieur knew the young couple?"--thus did he break the thread of his little narrative, more than once. I cannot pretend to set down his words. This is the substance of what he told me. The season was nearly over. The weather was splendidly fine, but very cold. Travellers were scarcely expected; when on that brilliant September morning, up rode the bride and bridegroom. After resting awhile, they took the single skiff that was there, Mr. Easton offering to row his wife across the lake, to which she very reluctantly assented. I recollect the narrator dwelling on this fact. The shore shelves off very rapidly. The water, in some parts, reaches to the depth of three or four hundred feet. At all times it is of marvellous clearness--as I observed myself--and, except during the heats of summer, so piercingly cold, as to be altogether unbearable to the swimmer. My informant helped them into the boat. Mr. Easton was evidently used to the handling of oars. The tragedy was immediately--perhaps one should say, ostensibly--caused by those two qualities of the water of the Lac de Gaube, to which I have just alluded--its clearness and its coldness. The boat was at some considerable distance from the shore. The boatman was watching them. Suddenly, Mr. Easton paused in his rowing. He and his wife looked over the side, as though guessing at the depth. Mr. Easton then stood up, and plunged one oar downwards into the water, with the confident action of a man who is certain that he shall touch the bottom. The transparency had deceived him. His oar met no resistance; and he himself plunged heavily overboard. Such at least was the impression of the boatman on land; and he could scarcely be mistaken.