The rarefied atmosphere of these high regions makes the stomach frightfully hollow.
More prudent than you, I never undertake these expeditions without providing myself with some refreshment.

But how pale you are!" he added, looking at him with sympathetic, almost tender, eyes.

"Put on, I beg of you, my overcoat, and I will wrap myself up in my plaid, and then we will both be warm." With these words he took off his overcoat and handed it to M.Moriaz, who, feeling almost frozen, offered feeble objections to donning the garment, although he had some difficulty in getting into the sleeves.
During this time Count Abel had thrown down on the rock the wallet he carried slung to a leathern strap over his shoulders.

He drew forth from it a loaf of light bread, some hard-boiled eggs, a _pate_ of venison, and a bottle of excellent burgundy.

These provisions he spread out around him, and then presented to M.Moriaz a cup cut from a cocoanut-shell, and filled it to the brim, saying, "Here is something that will entirely restore you." M.Moriaz drained the cup, and soon felt his weakness disappear.