At the corner of the street, just opposite the tavern of the Three Pigeons, a strange figure was advancing, surrounded by a crowd of jumping, laughing boys, each vying with the other in shouting at the top of his voice: "King of Diamonds! King of Diamonds!" In truth, a stranger figure could scarcely be imagined. Fancy a man with a grave face and red beard; a gloomy eye, straight nose, eyebrows meeting, a circlet of tin upon his head, an iron-gray shepherd dog-skin flapping upon his back, the two fore-paws knotted around his neck; his breast covered with little copper crosses, his legs with a sort of gray stuff trousers, and his feet bare. A large raven with lustrous black wings was perched upon his shoulder. One might think, from the majesty of his air and gait, that an ancient Merovingian king had come back to earth; and, indeed, he carried a short stick cut to the shape of a sceptre, while with his right hand he gesticulated magnificently, pointing to the skies and apostrophizing his attendants. Every door opened as he passed, and curious faces were pressed against every window-pane. A few old women upon the outside stairs of their cottages called to him, but he deigned no reply; others descended to the street and would have barred his passage, but he, with head erect and brows haughtily raised, waved them aside. "Hold!" said Hullin, "here is Yegof. I did not expect to see him again this winter, it is contrary to his habit; and what can he mean by returning in such weather as this?"