 Deborah Ross. Even the word has a singing sound. It rings softly and a little sadly here, inside your head, and then it fades and disappears, just as the valley itself has disappeared. Deborah Ross. Once its pastures were a beautiful green color, even as early as May. There were all kinds of tiny mountain flowers, some whiter than snow, bluer than the sky, bright orange and purple and yellow. How beautiful it was in those days. Very beautiful. But all that was almost 20 years ago, almost 20 years ago, before the mountain fell. The CBS Radio Workshop, dedicated to man's imagination, the theater of the mind. Tonight, a version for listening of a French novel called, When the Mountain Fell, written by C.F. Ramuse, adapted for the workshop by Draper Lewis, with an original musical score, composed and conducted by Lawrence Rosenthal. My name is Plon, old Plon. Once I was called Pierre, when my back was straight and strong, and my flocks as many as the stars that passed her up there in the evening sky. Yes. All that is past. Now I am old Plon, who sits here by the well and gossips with the women of the village, or carves little animals of wood for the children. Do you see that path to the right of the church? That is the path the men of our village would follow each spring, driving their cattle and goats up to the pastures for the summer. There are so many men from our village living up there in the valley that last terrible year, when the mountain fell. There was Nendas, who walked with a limp, Justin, the baker's son. There were the three brothers named Carout, and Antoine, and Seraphine. Antoine, my cup is empty again. Is there more coffee? Antoine, who shared a little cabin with Seraphine. He's the one I want to tell you about. Antoine. Antoine! What? Oh, I'm sorry, Seraphine. And what face were you looking for among the flames? We've only been on the mountain a few weeks and already, you're lonesome for your tarrés. Anyone would think you were never going to see your young bride again. Is it such an awful thing to have me for company? Well, no. No, of course not, my old friend. Please, some more coffee. Besides, I would like you to go down to the village on Saturday. I have some cheese for you to take to my sister, if you'll amen. You can stay over till Monday or Tuesday and then come back. Many thanks. From both of you. Ah, it's nothing. Now, it's time for bed. Well, I've never heard that song before. It's been happening for the past three nights, but you're too heavy a sleeper to hear it. It's nothing. Unless you believe the stories they tell about the mountain, about the devil's tower. I've heard some of the stories. Old Plain would tell you the devil himself lives there with his wife and children. He will say, Now he is quiet, there is no noise, but soon he will get bored and say to his imps, you there, get out the bowls. They will hurl great stones at the devil's nine pin and the noise echoes like thunder through the mountain. With stories true, just ask Old Plain. See, they begin again. It seems so much louder this time. You will also tell you that anyone who dies on the mountain lives on through all eternity, haunting the place where he has died and calling, calling in the night to his loved ones to join him. You can make the little hairs in the back of your neck rise with some of his tails. Well, the sound is getting louder. It doesn't seem to be stopping this time. It will stop, it always stops. What did you feel it? The cabin moved as though a giant hand had reached down to shake it. Catch your lantern. We must go outside and turn the cattle loose. We can't go outside. The rocks are falling everywhere. At once. They near the walls where the beams are heaviest, it will be safer there. Oh, dear God, look at this. There's a great storm in the mountains as though the thunder of all the world was speaking as one up there. And then there was the crash as the Devil's Tower hit the valley below to bury Deborahans and our men forever. But it was not forever. The mountain would not have it so. I brought you over some fresh eggs from the farm. How did you sleep last night? Well, I woke up once when I heard the storm. But then I remembered that you'd closed the windows before you left. Here, I'll take the eggs. Mother, why is the church bell ringing so slowly this morning? Well, there's a ceremony, a special mass today. But come sit here by the stove and I'll make coffee. With a baby coming, we must talk about the clothes he will need. I still have a trunk in the attic with some of your clothes in it. And when Seraphine comes home, he can help. When Seraphine comes home. Mother? Mother, you're suddenly so pale. What is it? It's nothing. Nothing, dear. I didn't sleep well last night. The storm sat there. Fill me. There is. There is no one left alive in Deborahans. One of the woodmen, little boys, just came down from the mountain. He says there are only great clouds of dust in the rocks. He says... She doesn't know. I wanted to tell her, but not yet. Not this soon. What happened? What are you trying to keep from me, Mother? Mother, tell me. Catherine, Catherine, please. The mountain has fallen. The mountain is... What mountain? It's the devil's tower. And where? On Deborahans. And the men? And the men? Sylvie, sit here in the bed. But the mountain just doesn't fall down like that. A mountain can't fall down. Two months went by. The scientists came from the city to study the glacier, looking for any fresh cracks which would cause another fall. Then the engineers to measure the avalanche and change their maps of the valley. And always, always the people came. The curious people who climbed the great pile of rock that covered the valley of Deborahans. But they found nothing. Cabins, animals, and men had disappeared completely under the stones. And Deborahans lay as dead beneath the devil's tower for two months or nearly two months until one morning. One morning he got his head out. Help me. It was nearly two months after the avalanche when he crawled out of a hole. It means someone helped him. There was no one there to help him. First his head squeezed between two stones. Out into the daylight. He struggled and fought. He dragged the rest of his body up. Up towards the sun. Says we'll be given new pastures in the spring. And the money for the new livestock. When can we expect that? Pass me your bowl again. It may storm tonight. Dear boy, can't we move down into the village now that our cattle are gone? Your dog is barking again. He's so lonely up here. We will buy more cattle somehow. And why is he always my dog whenever he begins to bark? We can't afford to move this here. Dear boy, wait. Did you hear something? I heard my dog barking in the sound of the wind in the tree. Be quiet, you fool, and listen. I heard it again. It was a cry, someone in pain. I'll take the ladder. Dear boy, don't go out there, please. What are you talking about? What do you mean? Dear boy, it could be them. They can't come back, you know. I've heard talk about it in the village. Anyone who is killed on the mountain can't come back. Who have you been listening to, old claw? Let me open the door, Marie. No, no. Get back. I've been around in my face. I saw him with my own two eyes standing at the door. His face was white and shrunken like a skull. And his voice. A voice from the grave. Now, perhaps you will believe, old claw, when he tells you that the dead are restless there on the mountain. That the dead will return to seek their own. My son, it might have been your imagination. Some sort of image you thought you saw. No, father. I saw him walking down the path towards the village. I saw the ghost of Antoine Poin, who is dead. Dead. Wait, please. We must be certain before we act. Image, two months ago, but tonight he is walking again. What are you saying about my husband? He has been seen at the door of Marie-Rébaure's cabin and on the path leading to the village. Antoine. He's the first of the dead to walk from des Baransques. The church must protect our village. How can I protect you against something I haven't seen? How do I know that this is true? If you won't try to step in, I will. No. It is your husband. But dare do not reach out for the living beneath the shadow of the cross of our Lord. I'm not sure. Look in the mirror. Was my face always that small without whiskers? Always as handsome. How do you feel? Oh, I could sleep the clock around several more times. Oh, I hate it to wake you, but the mayor and the village council... Ah, yes. I was summoned to tell my story before the August presence of the mayor himself. Antoine, I have something to tell you. Something very important. I have so many things to tell you. Things I've held here inside me for two long months. Therese, I... Oh, let me sit down for a moment. I'll go call the doctor. No, no, I'm all right. Therese, I'm going back. I'm going back up to Debarons. Oh, let me tell the mayor that you can't see him now. But I must see him now. I have something to tell him about the mountain. I must see him. There is still someone under the avalanche at Debarons. Someone alive. To your health, Antoine, and welcome home. Your honor. Father, please. You must believe me when I tell you that Seraphine is alive. He's up there under the rocks at Cover Debarons. You must help me find him. Antoine, sit down. You have had a terrible experience. It's a miracle even you survived. But two of us survived, too. We can talk about that later, Antoine. You said you would tell us how you got out. And you tried to shoot me, eh, Reborn? Oh, well, I... No matter. You are an old soldier, and it's not surprising from the way I looked. Fearless, a scarecrow. My face all shrunken in the color of a vegetable that you grow in the cellar away from the light. My secretary will take down your story as you tell it, Antoine. Tell it? What is there to tell? I was caught in an avalanche. A heavy beam kept the rocks from me. For a long time after it passed, I just lay there, with my eyes shut. I wanted to scream, but I knew that no one would hear. It was days and days later when I heard it. A sound. So tiny that at first I thought it was only part of my daydreaming. Drip, like that. Then drip, drip, louder and faster. And then I filled it with my hand, a tiny trickle of water running by me into the ground. And I knew if I could follow it far enough, I would find the sunlight again. It was draining through cracks from the glaciers. Yes, through cracks that could be followed. I dug with my hands with my very fingertips, and the blood ran down my arms faster than the stream itself. It took a long, long time. Seven weeks and five days. It doesn't seem humanly possible. That's why you must go back up the mountain with me. Seraphine is trying to free himself, too. I know he is. All we have to do is go and find him. Reboard. Will you go with me? Antoine, it's too dangerous to walk under rocks now. The avalanche is still shifting and moving. You say no. Frédéric, surely you will go. You knew Seraphine, knew him, and loved him as I loved him. Since the rain last night, the path up the mountain is bad. If we could wait until... Wait! Wait while Seraphine calls for help. If none of you are men enough to go back up the mountain, then I'll go alone. I don't need you any of you! Antoine, wait! I wanted to go with him. It's just that after he's slept tonight, perhaps he'll realize in the morning that Seraphine could not be alive. Or perhaps Antoine himself is not really alive. He slept another 12 hours, Mother. I'm going in and give him something to eat. What was the gossip in the village this morning? Old Blanc has scared them all to death with his tales about the walking dead. Do you believe that Antoine is dead? I believe what you believe, Thérèse. He walked to me beneath the cross of our Lord. And here, in this room, he held me in his arms and he kissed me. He is my husband and he's real and alive. It has been a difficult time for all of us. Poor Seraphine. This morning I'm going to tell him about our baby. That will help. I know. I'll tell him while he's having his coffee. Let me betray. Antoine? Antoine? What she says is the truth. After being under those rocks, after a week, after a week, he only imagines that Seraphine is alive. How do we know that he hasn't come down here to take us back with him? Why, he's probably in bed. It's been a long time since I've climbed this far. Why don't you wait here with me, Thérèse? Let the mayor and the others go on. No, no, no. I must go with him. You see, I have something to tell Antoine. Oh, I should have stayed by his bedside last night while he slept and I didn't. Now I must make him understand. I must say to him, we are three. There is a child coming and we need you. There is a danger to this village if he is lost again. I think we should move on. It's only another three hours until death. No! Why have you come up here? You are the wife. You are married to this man who has walked among us and called himself Antoine. I won't listen to you! I've climbed a long and difficult way to try to stop you from going up into the valley. Woman, take care. They may look as if they have bodies like us, but it is all trickery. There are certain nights, dark and moonless nights, when you can see them and hear them, walking up and down, wailing and lamenting. They make a noise like the wind whistling over the top of a rock, like a pebble rolling in the stream. Do not go up into that valley or you will be lost. All of you! I will go on! We should do something. We'll never see her again. No matter how long you wait, she will not come back. Be free. Free, Serpent. You cannot wait much longer. The Lord save us. I hate to believe that old Plaw is right, but you'll never see her again. She should have been back long before this. What else can we believe? I will still order a searching party. I'll tell the authorities in Zambrone. It's too late. It's all over now. We'll discuss it further in the village. Plaw, are you coming back with us? Old Plaw? Over there, in the valley. See, they're coming. What are you talking about, you old fool? The old man's eyes are playing tricks on him. No, no, no. Over there. That speck of white. That is Antoine's shirt. And the blues to raise his dress. You can see them moving down the path. Reboire, call to them. See if they answer. Call Reboire as loudly as you can. Call their names. Antoine! Listen. I had to go up the valley of Debra and Seguin. I was sure it showed up and it was still alive. And what do you think now? I don't know. When I came back to the village, I thought I heard his voice calling me. But it was like an echo in my head. An echo of the last words he spoke before the mountain fell. I don't know. Now that you've returned, Antoine, the people of the village are no longer afraid. The people that you and Seraphine loved. The myth of the mountain is gone. Yes, Father. God rest the soul of Seraphine. You sing softly and a little sadly inside your head as you lean over the great empty space where there is nothing left anymore. And it is easy to see that nothing is left. In time, though, in still another 20 years, perhaps, the slow and patient brushwork of the growing moss will color the biggest boulders, while their cracks will give foothold to many kinds of flowers and ferns and small mountain shrubs with sturdy branches and thick leaves. Their glossy berries swaying in the wind like little tinkling bells. And Deborah Ross will live again. You have been listening to the CBS Radio Workshop and When the Mountain Fell, written by C.F. Rameuse, adapted by Draper Lewis with music composed and conducted by Lawrence Rosenthal. The workshop is produced and directed in New York by Paul Roberts. Barry Kroger was heard as Old Clon, Auguste Dabney as Teresse, and Joe Helgesson as Antoine. Included in the cast were Jackson Beck, Peggy Allende, Alice Uerman, Joseph Julian, Abby Lewis, John Gibson, Ivor Francis, Joseph Boland, and Ruth Tobin. This is Bob Hyde inviting you to listen again next week when from New York the CBS Radio Workshop presents 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, the story of the White House in Washington, D.C. Stay tuned now for five minutes of CBS News. America listens most to the CBS Radio Network.