The sick man declared that he was better, though the exertion of saying as much tumbled him over on to the floor in a fainting fit. He was badly in want of medicine, and I tramped down to Chatillon to get it. It was late before I returned to Val Tournanche, for the weather was tempestuous, and rain fell in torrents. A figure passed me under the church porch. “_Qui vive?_” “Jean-Antoine.” “I thought you were at Breil.” “No, sir: when the storms came on I knew we should not start to-night, and so came down to sleep here.” “Ha, Carrel!” I said; “this is a great bore. If to-morrow is not fine we shall not be able to do anything together. I have sent away my guides, relying on you; and now you are going to leave me to travel with a party of ladies. That work is not fit for _you_ (he smiled, I supposed at the implied compliment); can’t you send some one else instead?” “No, monsieur. I am sorry, but my word is pledged. I should like to accompany you, but I can’t break my engagement.” By this time we had arrived at the inn door. “Well, it is no fault of yours. Come presently with Cæsar, and have some wine.” They came, and we sat up till midnight, recounting our old adventures, in the inn of Val Tournanche. The weather continued bad upon the 10th, and I returned to Breil. The two Carrels were again hovering about the above mentioned chalet, and I bade them adieu. In the evening the sick man crawled up, a good deal better; but his was the only arrival. The Monday crowd(210) did not cross the Théodule, on account of the continued storms. The inn was lonely. I went to bed early, and was awoke the next morning by the invalid inquiring if I had “heard the news.” “No; what news?” “Why,” said he, “a large party of guides went off this morning to try the Matterhorn, taking with them a mule laden with provisions.” I went to the door, and with a telescope saw the party upon the lower slopes of the mountain. Favre, the landlord, stood by. “What is all this about?” I inquired, “who is the leader of this party?” “Carrel.” “What! Jean-Antoine?” “Yes; Jean-Antoine.” “Is Cæsar there too?” “Yes, he is there.” Then I saw in a moment that I had been bamboozled and humbugged; and learned, bit by bit, that the affair had been arranged long beforehand. The start on the 6th had been for a preliminary reconnaissance; the mule, that I passed, was conveying stores for the attack; the “family of distinction” was Signor F. Giordano, who had just despatched the party to facilitate the way to the summit, and who, when the facilitation was completed, was to be taken to the top along with Signor Sella!(211)