But he awakened in no better hope than when he had laid down. He ate and was not strengthened. The hope had gone out from his heart, the fire from his eye, his soul lacked the cheerful vigor necessary to exertion, and his physical strength was nearly exhausted. "Would that I had not awakened!" was his mournful exclamation, as his eyes opened once more to the dreary prospect from the bald eminence of that desolate mountain-tower. "Would that I might close mine eyes and sleep, my brother, sleep ever, or awake to consciousness only in a better world." "This world is ours, my brother," responded the younger, impetuously; "and, if we are men, if we had no misgivings--if we could feel only as we might--that the weariness of this day would find a wing to-morrow; we should conquer it, and be worthy of better worlds hereafter. But he who gives himself up to weariness, will neither find nor deserve a wing. Thou hast eaten--thou hast drunken,--thou shouldst be refreshed. I have neither eaten nor drunken, since we set off at dawn this morning for our progress across the valley." "Reproach me not, Alphonse," replied the other; "thou hast a strength and a courage both denied to me." "Believe it not; be resolute in thy courage, and thy strength will follow. It is the heart, verily, that is the first to fail." "Mine is dead within me!" "Yet another effort, _mon frére_,--yet one more effort! The valley below us looks soft and inviting. There shall we find shelter from the bleak winds that sweep these bald summits." "It is cold! and my limbs stiffen beneath me," answered the other, as he rose slowly to resume a march which was more painful to his thoughts than any which he had of death. But for his deference to the superior will of the younger brother, he had surely never risen from the spot. But he rose, and wearily followed after the bold Alphonse, who was already picking his way down the steep sides of the mountain. * * * * *