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Updated: June 24, 2025
Passing the village of Sigony, Erwald pointed to the remains of an old convent far up the mountain, whose inmates were wont to welcome the traveller, when these valleys, destitute of good roads and inns, were explored with difficulty and with danger. From this place the mountains closed upon us; rocks began to overhang the road, and the Arve was rather heard than seen.
Long afterwards, when Edward Lynde was passing through the valley of the Arve, on the way from Geneva to Chamouni, he recollected this bit of Switzerland in America, and it brought an odd, perplexed smile to his lips.
Tho' it embraced a vast extent of space, the snowy pyramids which shot into the bright blue sky seemed to overhang our path; the ravine, clothed with gigantic pines, and black with its depth below, so deep that the very roaring of the untameable Arve, which rolled through it, could not be heard above all was as much our own, as if we had been the creators of such impressions in the minds of others as now occupied our own.
"Yes," said his father; "the Arve is coming down from the mountains, and flowing towards the Rhone not very far from here, on the other side of this flat land. This land constitutes a sort of tongue lying between the two rivers. I suppose it has been formed by the deposits that the Arve brings down.
As we left Maglan, our road, or rather path, led up a deep and fertile valley, watered by the Arve, rich in woods of fir, and bounded by mountains of various forms and of tremendous altitudes; their rugged peaks sometimes lost in the clouds; at others, their heads towered in majesty above them.
When I said "Good-bye" to Skinny, he said, "It's a bleedin' shime that you 'arve to go, mite. Those bloomin' 'Eadquarter blokes doesn't know what they're doin' 'arf the time. It's blinkin' 'ard to lose both you and Mac, but 'up the line with the best of luck, old cock." But I must explain why I had to go. This did not sound very good to us, as the Ypres salient was known as a pretty hot place.
"Then we will go to Chamonix." They spent the afternoon drifting about in a little sailing boat. The beautiful lake produced far less impression upon Arthur than the gray and muddy Arve. He had grown up beside the Mediterranean, and was accustomed to blue ripples; but he had a positive passion for swiftly moving water, and the hurried rushing of the glacier stream delighted him beyond measure.
The first day's march led them into the valley of the Arve, by the Col de Voirons, from which they took their last view of the peaceful Lake of Geneva; thence they proceeded by the pyramidal mountain called the Mole to the little town of Viu, where they rested for two hours, starting again by moonlight, and passing through St.
Trees uprooted, withered branches and blasted trunks were scattered in every direction, and sometimes a large space was completely cleared by one of these tremendous agents of destruction. "You have seen the village of Chamouni," said Franz; "it is said to have been built by a few peasants who escaped an avalanche that occurred on the opposite side of the Arve."
In the Arve valley he had purposely put off all reference to the subject of which they had spoken under the magnolia tree; it would be cruel, he thought, to spoil the first delights of Alpine scenery for a nature so artistic as Arthur's by associating them with a conversation which must necessarily be painful.
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