"It is the best English gunpowder," said he; "it flows like grains of silver over the hand, and makes a splendid charge. You don't want much of it; a thimbleful's enough. And here's some lead without the smallest particle of tin. From this very evening, Hexe-Baizel shall begin to cast bullets; she's a good hand at that--you will see." They were preparing to return the same way they came, when all of a sudden they were startled by a confused humming sound of talking at no great distance from them. Marc blew out his lantern, and they remained plunged in darkness. "There is some one walking above there," whispered the smuggler; "who the deuce has managed to climb up the Falkenstein this snowy weather?" They listened in breathless silence, and with their eyes fixed on a pale streak of light which streamed through a narrow fissure at the end of the cavern. Around this cleft grew some shrubs sparking with hoar-frost, while higher up might be perceived the top of an old wall. As they stood thus anxiously watching in the most profound silence, there suddenly appeared at the foot of the wall a huge head covered with long matted hair, the sharp, lean face ending in a red pointed beard, the sharply-cut profile standing out in strong relief against the white wintry sky. "It is the King of Diamonds," said Marc, with a laugh. "Poor devil!" said Hullin, in a grave tone; "he has come to ramble about his castle, with his bare feet on the ice, and his tin crown on his head! Stay! see! he is speaking; he is giving his orders to his knights, to his court; he extends his sceptre to the north and to the south--all is his; he is lord of heaven and earth! Poor devil! only to see him with his thin drawers and his old sheepskin on his back, makes me shiver with cold." "Yes, Jean-Claude, and me, too; it makes me feel like a burgomaster, or mayor of a village, with his round paunch and fat puffy cheeks, who says to himself: 'Me, I am Hans-Aden; I have ten acres of beautiful meadows, I have two houses, I have a vine, my orchard, my garden, hum! hum! I've this, and I've that!' The next day a little touch of colic carries him off, and--good bye! Ah, the fools! the fools! who is there that is not a fool? Come along, Hullin, the very sight of that poor fellow babbling to the wind, and his raven, who croaks of famine, makes my teeth chatter." As they came out into the open day, Hullin was almost dazzled by the sudden change from the thick darkness. Fortunately, the tall stature of his companion, standing upright before him, preserved him from an attack of giddiness. "Step firmly," said Marc; "imitate me--your right hand in the hole, the right foot forward on the step, one half turn round--here we are!" They returned to the kitchen, where Hexe-Baizel told them that Yégof was in the ruins of the old _burg_. "We know it," replied Marc; "we have just seen him taking the air up above there; every one to his taste."