The kid nibbling the tender grass under
the shade of the great trees is as poetic an object as the shelter that
it loves; the fierce boar is as rough as the tangled brakes through which
he loves to run his huge bristly back; the eagle is as proud and lofty as
the sky-piercing crags on which he perches as his home; the lion is as
majestic as the arching vaults of the caves where he makes his den; but
the wolf, the fox, and the ferret seek the darkness that conforms to
their ugly deeds; fear and remorse dog their steps.
I was still dreamily pursuing these thoughts, and I was beginning to feel
the keen air moving upon my face, for we were approaching the outlet of
the gorge, when all at once a red light struck the rock a hundred feet
above us, purpling the dark green of the fir-trees and lighting up the
wreaths of snow.
"Ha!" cried Sperver, "we have got her at last!"
My heart leaped; we stood, closely pressed, the one against the other.
The dog growled low and deep.
"Cannot she escape?" I asked in a whisper.
"No; she is caught like a rat in a trap. There is no way out of La
Marmite du Grand Gueulard but this, and everywhere all round the rocks
are two hundred feet high.
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