One would have difficulty in finding throughout the Alps a more completely barren, rugged, desolate spot, than this portion of the Albula Pass.

The highway lies among masses of rocks, heaped up in terrible disorder.

Arrived at the culminating point, Count Abel felt the necessity of taking breath.

He clambered up a little hillock, where he seated himself.

At his feet were wide open the yawning jaws of a cavern, obstructed by great tufts of aconite (wolf's-bane), with sombre foliage; one would have said that they kept guard over some crime in which they had been accomplices.