are carefully preserved; but some of those in inferior stations have
been suffered to fall into decay, and are now frequently converted into
the more peaceful habitation of the hunter, or the shepherd, who, after
a day of toil, retires hither, and, with his faithful dogs, forgets,
near a cheerful blaze, the labour of the chace, or the anxiety of
collecting his wandering flocks, while he is sheltered from the nightly
storm.'

'But are they always thus peacefully inhabited?' said the Lady Blanche.

'No,' replied the Count, 'they are sometimes the asylum of French and
Spanish smugglers, who cross the mountains with contraband goods from
their respective countries, and the latter are particularly numerous,
against whom strong parties of the king's troops are sometimes sent. But
the desperate resolution of these adventurers, who, knowing, that, if
they are taken, they must expiate the breach of the law by the most
cruel death, travel in large parties, well armed, often daunts the
courage of the soldiers. The smugglers, who seek only safety, never
engage, when they can possibly avoid it; the military, also, who
know, that in these encounters, danger is certain, and glory almost
unattainable, are equally reluctant to fight; an engagement, therefore,
very seldom happens, but, when it does, it never concludes till after
the most desperate and bloody conflict. You are inattentive, Blanche,'
added the Count: 'I have wearied you with a dull subject; but see,
yonder, in the moon-light, is the edifice we have been in search of, and
we are fortunate to be so near it, before the storm bursts.'

Blanche, looking up, perceived, that they were at the foot of the cliff,
on whose summit the building stood, but no light now issued from it; the
barking of the dog too had, for some time, ceased, and the guides began
to doubt, whether this was really the object of their search. From the
distance, at which they surveyed it, shewn imperfectly by a cloudy moon,
it appeared to be of more extent than a single watch-tower; but the
difficulty was how to ascend the height, whose abrupt declivities seemed
to afford no kind of pathway.

While the guides carried forward the torch to examine the cliff, the
Count, remaining with Blanche and St. Foix at its foot, under the shadow
of the woods, endeavoured again to beguile the time by conversation,
but again anxiety abstracted the mind of Blanche; and he then consulted,
apart with St. Foix, whether it wou