All seemed firm beneath her feet, but she never knew when the crust would break, and he would vanish into unfathomed depths, perchance dragging her with him.

Or, feeling her danger she might run from him on to safer ground, where she knew herself to be on good, common rock or soil, and no strange, hollow echoes struck her ears, leaving him to pursue his perilous journey alone.
Her mother laughed, and falling into her humour, answered, that beyond the crevasse and at the foot of the further slope lay the warm and merry human town, the best house of which--not unlike the Villa Ogilvy--could be reached in no other way, and that with such a home waiting to receive her, it was worth while to take a little risk.
Thereon Juliette shrugged her white shoulders, and in the intervals of one of the French _chansonettes_ which she was very fond of warbling in her gay voice, remarked that she preferred to make journeys, safe or perilous, in the company of a singing-bird in the sunlight, rather than in that of an owl in the dusk, who always reminded her of the advancing darkness.
At least, that was the substance of what she said, although she did not put it quite so neatly.

Then, as though by an afterthought, she asked when her cousin Jules, a young notary of Berne, was coming to stay with them.
The winter wore away, the spring came, and after spring, summer, with its greenery and flowers.

Godfrey was happy enough during this time.

To begin with, the place suited him.