g at his head and was a sorry beast enough. I was never
weary, however, of admiring the scenery. The guide told me he had
often seen Napoleon when he was crossing the mountain, and that
he remembered his being caught in a _tormento_,[3] when his life
was saved by two young Savoyards, who took him on their backs
and carried him to a _rifugio_.[4] He asked them if they were
married, and, finding they were not, enquired how much was enough
to marry upon in that country, and then gave them the requisite
sum, and settled pensions of 600 francs on each of them. One is
dead, the other still receives it. As I got near the top of the
mountain the road, which had hitherto been excellent, became
execrable and the cold intense. I had left summer below and found
winter above. I looked in vain for the chamois, hares, wolves,
and bears, all of which I was told are found there. At last I
arrived at the summit, and found at the inn a friar, the only
inhabitant of the Hospice, who, hearing me say I would go there
(as my carriage was not yet come), offered to go with me; he was
young, fat, rosy, jolly, and dirty, dressed in a black robe with
a travelling-cap on his head, appeared quick and intelligent, and
spoke French and Italian. He took me over the Hospice, which is
now quite empty, and showed me two very decently furnished rooms
which the Emperor Napoleon used to occupy, and two inferior
apartments which had been appropriated to the Empress Maria
Louisa. The N.'s on the _grille_ of the door had been changed for
V.E.'s (Victor Emmanuel) and M.T.'s (Maria Theresa), and
frightful pictures of the Sardinian King and Queen have replaced
the Imperial portraits. All sorts of distinguished people have
slept there _en passant_, and do still when compelled to spend
the night on Mont Cenis. He offered to lodge and feed me, but I
declined. I told him I was glad to see Napoleon's bedroom, as I
took an interest in everything which related to that great man,
at which he seemed extremely pleased, and said, 'Ah, monsieur,
vous etes donc comme moi.' I dined at the inn (a very bad one) on
some trout which they got for me from the Hospice--very fine
fish, but very ill dressed. The sun was setting by the time I set
off, it was dusk when I had got half-way down the descent, and
dark before I had reached the first stage. When half-way down the
descent, the last rays of the sun were still gilding the tops of
the crags above, and the contrast between that lig