possible, that some day or other, an earthquake, so frequent in those mountains, had broken down an embankment; or a vein of rock, softer than the others, had given passage to the current, and the mass of waters had been thrown from its bed. A strip ten feet long and three wide, led to the side of the mountain. In order to close this sluice, open for many years, and imprison the waters in their first reservoir, only two hours work was needed. An hour more would be enough to drain off the water, and the night wind would soon dry the rocks. Our escape, the way thus prepared, would not take more than twenty-five minutes. Once at the foot of the mountain, we would have Athens before us, and the stars would serve as guides; the paths were detestable, but we would run no risk of meeting a brigand. When the King would come in the morning to make us a visit, to inquire how we had passed the night, he would see that we had passed it, running; and, as one can acquire knowledge at any age, he would learn, to his sorrow, that one cannot count on one's self, and that a cascade was a bad guard for prisoners. This project seemed to me so marvelous, that I, at once, imparted it to the ladies. They listened, at first, as prudent conspirators listen to an irritating agent. The younger woman, however, measured, without a tremor, the depth of the ravine. "One could do it," she said. "Not alone, but with the help of a strong arm. Are you strong, Monsieur?" I replied, without knowing why: "I shall be, if you will have confidence in me." These words, to which I attached no particular meaning, seemed, without doubt, somewhat foolish, for she blushed and turned away her head. "Monsieur," she replied, "it may be that we have judged you wrongly; misfortune embitters one. I would willingly believe that you are a worthy young man." She might have been able to find something more agreeable to say; but she gave me this half compliment in a voice so sweet and a look so sincere, that I was moved to the depths of my soul. So true is it, that if the air is pretty, the words of a song do not matter. She held out to me her beautiful hand, and I had already put my own out to take it, when she suddenly withdrew it, and said: "Where will you get the material for a dike?" "Under our feet! the turf!" "The water will wash it away." "Not under two hours. After us, the deluge!" "Good!" This time she gave me her hand and I was about to carry it to my lips, but she quickly withdrew it again. "We are guarded night and day, have you thought of that?" I had not even thought of it, but I was too well on my way to recoil before any obstacle. I replied with a resolution which astonished me: "The Corfuan? I will see to him. I will tie him to a tree." "He will cry out." "I will kill him." "And the arms to do it with?" "I will steal them." To steal! to kill! it seemed natural, since I had almost kissed her hand. Judge then, Monsieur, of what I might be capable, if ever I fell in love!