We had pursued this plan about half an hour, when the snow suddenly fell, and its friend the fog so closed round us that we could see nothing but the road, and I feared that would be invisible ere long, as I strained my eyes to discover the precipices which might be there, and the track which the last travellers had left, and which the flakes effaced as they fell. From this spot the aspect of Mont Cenis is unknown to me, almost as if I had not traversed it; only as we crossed the Plain of St. Nicholas, over which, but for the hooftrack of a horse which immediately preceded us we should have failed to find the way, appeared for a moment the palisades of the ascending route, seeming built on the cloud, and a waterfall which sprang forth from the mist to be swallowed in it again a few yards lower. From the cliffs which skirt the road (here rising abruptly from the level) hung icicles from fifty to a hundred feet long, which the mist just opened to show. I almost thought we might be left on the mountain as a reinforcement, for I certainly never before knew the entire meaning of the word cold.
We went on, however, patiently, and rapidly as we could with mercy to the poor horses, who seemed anxious to advance as ourselves. The wind had risen, and the broad flakes of snow in this higher region changed to small particles of ice which drifted in our faces cold and cutting. We passed the barrier of Piedmont, whereon was written that a toll was to be paid there; but we, having called and nobody answered, went on till we reached the Grande Croix, before whose humble inn stood several waggons, and one waggoner who lifted his hands in amazement, and said, "Povera, poverina," with an accent of pity not at that moment misplaced, for the ice adhered to our hats and cloaks, making them look like an old wall from which hangs half detached plaster; even D----'s weather whisker was an iceberg, as were the horses' manes and tails. Grizzle had rubbed hers last night, and the icicled hairs stuck forth ludicrously like "quills from the fretful porcupine."
To stop to complain would certainly have been to be frozen to death, and we rode fast over the plain of Mont Cenis, stopping to breathe our comrades before each refuge, as places where we could find aid, should aid become necessary. The lake was invisible through the mist, and we could distinguish only the mountain rivulet which for some way accompanied us, flowing along like a black line through the dull white of the snow. As we approached the Hospice, opposite which is Napoleon's fortification, the dark lake became visible through the sleet, but only like a heavier cloud lying on the edge of the plain and recognized by its more defined outline. Half the Hospice is occupied by monks, whose voices reached us through the roar of the wind, singing psalms, the other half by the rcarabinieri, one of whom opened the door just sufficiently to take the passport, while a second peeped at us through a closed and barred window. I thought, considering their situation and ours, they kept it a merciless time, during which we walked our horses backwards and forwards, receiving the blast on all sides. From this level, the road ascends again, its highest point, being I believe at the refuge No. 20. The cantonnier, who was at work there spade in hand, desired us to be careful and proceed at a foot's pace, as we had a bad portion of road before us; and we found he was right, our horses floundering about in deep snow a moment after. Met here a carriage (the first); the postilion expressed his astonishment by an oath loud and deep. The snow-drift passed, the ground became worse still, for it changed to smooth ice, the wind, which every moment increased, sweeping the loose snow from its surface. Grizzle, who could not keep her footing, slipped and groaned, which meant, "Get off and lead me!" a prayer which D---- granted, but Fanny fortunately did not make to me, as, having felt the pain produced by cold, the numbness now stiffened me to my saddle, and had I been lifted from it, I should certainly have found walking impossible. At No. 17 is the Savoy barrier, which having passed we were called back. The good-natured Savoyard detained us as short a time as possible, called me "pauvre femme!" not thinking we were travelling for pleasure; and having written down as Heaven pleased the English names we told him, bade us speed on our way, which we did slowly and painfully.