midnight. At the first stroke the child started; at the
second, without hesitating, he plunged headlong into the
flames. To die for his grandmother seemed to him the
only means of showing his love and repentance.
To Graceful’s surprise, the flames parted without touch¬
ing him, and he suddenly found himself in a new country,
with his two companions by his side. This country was
no longer Italy, but Russia, the end of the earth. He was
wandering on a mountain covered with snow. Around him
he saw nothing but great trees, coated with hoar-frost
and dripping water from all their branches; a damp and
penetrating mist chilled him to the bones; the moist earth
sank under his feet; and, to crown his wretchedness, it
was necessary to descend a steep precipice, at the bottom
of which a torrent was breaking noisily over the rocks.
Graceful took his dagger and cut a branch from a tree to
support his faltering steps. Fido, with his tail between
his legs, barked feebly; and Pensive, her ruffled feathers
covered with icicles, clung to her master’s shoulder. The
poor bird was half dead, but she encouraged Graceful and
did not complain.
When, after infinite pains, he reached the foot of the
mountain, Graceful found a river filled with enormous
icebergs, striking against one another and whirling in the
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