His ice-axes stood in a corner, the polished steel of their adz-heads gleaming in the light; his _Ruecksack_ and some coils of rope hung upon pegs; his book with the signatures and the comments of his patrons lay at his elbow on the table, a complete record of his life.

But he was not thinking that they had served him for the last time.

He sat down in his chair and so remained for a little while.

But a smile was upon his face, and once or twice he chuckled aloud as he thought of his high diplomacy.

He did not remember at all that to-morrow he would lead mules up to the Montanvert and conduct parties on the Mer de Glace..