ollow the walk by clinging close to
the branches. And it was thus that I passed for the last time in the
middle of this oak-tree alley, where I had walked in my youth and ripe
age. In the terrible darkness, above the howling depth, I thought of uncle
Lazare, and saw the happy days of my youth smiling at me sadly.

The Durance triumphed at the end of the alley. Our poles no longer touched
the bottom. The water bore us along in its impetuous bound of victory. And
now it could do what it pleased with us. We gave ourselves up. We went
downstream with frightful rapidity. Great clouds, dirty tattered rags hung
about the sky; when the moon was hidden there came lugubrious obscurity.
Then we rolled in chaos. Enormous billows as black as ink, resembling the
backs of fish, bore us along, spinning us round. I could no longer see
either Babet or the children. I already felt myself dying.

I know not how long this last run lasted. The moon was suddenly unveiled,
and the horizon became clear. And in that light I perceived an immense
black mass in front of us which blocked the way, and towards which we were
being carried with all the violence of the current. We were lost, we would
be broken there.

Babet had stood upright. She held out little Marie to me:

"Take the child," she exclaimed. "Leave me alone, leave me alone!"

Jacques had already caught Babet in his arms. In a loud voice he said:

"Father, save the little one--I will save mother."

We had come close to the black mass. I thought I recognised a tree. The
shock was terrible, and the raft, split in two, scattered its straw and
beams in the whirlpool of water.

I fell, clasping little Marie tightly to me. The icy cold water brought
back all my courage. On rising to the surface of the river, I supported
the child, I half laid her on my neck and began to swim laboriously. If
the little creature had not lost consciousness but had struggled, we
should both have remained at the bottom of the deep.

And, whilst I swam, I felt choking with anxiety. I called Jacques, I tried
to see in the distance; but I heard nothing save the roar of the waters, I
saw naught but the pale sheet of the Durance. Jacques and Babet were at
the bottom. She must have clung to him, dragged him down in a deadly
strain of her arms. What frightful agony! I wanted to die; I sunk slowly,
I was going to find them beneath the black water. And as soon as the flood
touched little Marie's face, I struggled aga