And abruptly he turned to Chayne with his eyes full of tears and began to speak in a quick passionate whisper, while the veins stood out upon his forehead and his face quivered.
"Monsieur, I told you your friend was not greatly to be pitied.

I tell you now something more.

The guide we brought down with him from the Glacier des Nantillons a fortnight back--all this fortnight I have been envying him--yes, yes, even though he kicked the snow with his feet for a little before he died.

It is better to do so than to lead mules up to the Montanvert." "I am sorry," said Chayne.
The words sounded, as he spoke them, lame enough and trivial in the face of Michel's passionate lament.

But they had an astonishing effect upon the guide.