ssing an
arm around a shroud, and, bending forward, he gazed into the cauldron of
the lake with aching eyes. Once or twice, he thought he heard the stifled
breathing of one who struggled with the raging water; but, in that roar of
the winds, it was easy to be deceived. He shouted encouragement to his
dog, however, and gathering a small rope rapidly, he made a heaving coil
of one of its ends. This he cast far from him, with a peculiar swing and
dexterity, hauling-in, and repeating the experiments, steadily and with
unwearied industry. The rope was necessarily thrown at hazard, for the
misty light prevented more than it aided vision; and the howling of the
powers of the air filled his ears with sounds that resembled the laugh of
devils.

In the cultivation of the youthful manly exercises, neither of the old
nobles had neglected the useful skill of being able to buffet with the
waves. But both possessed what was far better, in such a strait, than the
knowledge of a swimmer, in that self-command and coolness in emergencies
which they are apt to acquire, who pass their time in encountering the
hazards and in overcoming the difficulties of war. Each retained a
sufficiency of recollection, therefore, on coming to the surface, to
understand his situation, and not to increase the danger by the
ill-directed and frantic efforts that usually drown the frightened. The
case was sufficiently desperate, at the best, without the additional risk
of distraction, for the bark had already drifted to some unseen spot,
that, as respects them, was quite unattainable. In this uncertainty, it
would have been madness to steer amid the waste of waters, as likely to
go wrong as right, and they limited their efforts to mutual support and
encouragement, placing their trust in God.

Not so with Sigismund. To him the roaring tempest was mute, the boiling
and hissing lake had no horrors, and he had plunged into the fathomless
Leman as recklessly as he could have leaped to land. The shriek, the
"Sigismund! oh, Sigismund!" of Adelheid, was in his ears, and her cry of
anguish thrilled on every nerve. The athletic young Swiss was a practised
and expert swimmer, or it is improbable that even these strong impulses
could have overcome the instinct of self-preservation. In a tranquil
basin, it would have been no extraordinary or unusual feat for him to
conquer the distance between the Winkelried and the shores of Vaud; but,
like all the others, on casting hims