As the first thing necessary was to procure the powder, Catherine Lefévre had very naturally cast her eyes upon Marc Divès, the smuggler, and his virtuous spouse, Hexe-Baizel. These people lived on the other side of the Falkenstein, under the very shadow of the old ruinous _burg_. They had hollowed out for themselves in the rock a very convenient cavern which had only one entrance, and two apertures to admit light; but which, if report spoke true, had another outlet, leading to old subterranean passages of great extent. This the custom-house officers had never been able to discover, in spite of numberless visits paid with that object in view. Jean-Claude and Marc Divès had known each other from childhood--had rambled together as boys in search of hawks' and owls' nests, and, in after life, they met each other at least once nearly every week, at the great sawpits of the Valtin. Jean-Claude, therefore, believed himself sure of the smuggler, but he was not quite so certain of Madame Hexe-Baizel, a very discreet person, and who would not, perhaps, be greatly taken with the prospect of strife and warfare. "At any rate," said he, as he jogged steadily along, "we shall soon see." He had lit his pipe, and from time to time he turned slowly round to gaze upon the broad landscape, whose limits kept growing wider and wider. Nothing more beautiful in nature than these wooded mountains, rising one above the other in the pale heavens--these vast plains, stretching out of sight, all white with snow--these black ravines, half hidden among the woods, with their sluggish streams gurgling slowly over the smooth pebbles at the bottom. And then the silence--that grand solemn silence of winter--the half-melted snow falling noiselessly from the tops of the tall firs on to the lower branches, gently bending beneath their weight; the birds of prey whirling in pairs over the forest, uttering their shrill war-cry. All this must be seen, for it cannot be described! About an hour after he had left the village of Charmes, Hullin, climbing the summit of the steep mountain, reached the foot of rock of the Arbousiers. All around this huge mass of granite extends a sort of rocky terrace, three or four feet wide. This narrow footway, canopied by the tall tops of the slender mountain firs, looks dangerous, but it is safe; unless attacked by giddiness, you can walk along it without risk. Above rises the rocky and ruinous archway of the cavern. Jean-Claude drew near the smuggler's retreat. He stopped a few moments on the terrace, put his pipe back in his pocket, then advanced along the path, which describes a half circle, and ends on the other side by a sudden gap. At the very end, and almost on the edge of this gap, he perceived the two lattices of the cave, and the half-opened doorway, in front of which an immense heap of dung was piled.