But the winter began so fiercely that our residence in the valley became extremely dangerous. In a few days the snow reached the level of our chalet; it threatened to bury it and to cause our deaths by starvation. Leoni insisted on remaining; he wanted to lay in a stock of provisions and defy the enemy; but Joanne assured him that we should inevitably be lost if we did not beat a retreat at once; that such a winter had not been seen for ten years, and that when the thaw came the chalet would be swept away like a feather by the avalanches, unless Saint Bernard and Our Lady of the Snow-drifts should save it by a miracle. "If I were alone," said Leoni, "I would wait for a miracle and laugh at the snow-drifts; but I have no courage when you share my dangers. We will go away to-morrow." "We must do it," I said; "but where shall we go? I shall be recognized and betrayed very soon; I shall be compelled by force to return to my parents." "There are a thousand ways of eluding men and laws," replied Leoni with a smile; "we can surely find one; don't be alarmed; the whole world is at our disposal." "And where shall we begin?" I asked, forcing myself to smile too. "I don't know yet," he replied, "but what does it matter? we shall be together; where can we be unhappy?" "Alas!" said I, "shall we ever be so happy as we have been here?" "Do you want to stay here?" "No," I replied, "we should be happy no longer; in presence of danger, we should always be alarmed for each other." We made preparations for our departure. Joanne passed the day clearing the path by which we were to go. During the night I had a strange experience, upon which I have feared, many times since then, to meditate.