The little dark passage, lit only by a solitary lantern, was full of snow, and every moment by its dull light were seen passing the leaders of the ambuscade, their hats pulled down to their ears, the large sleeves of their riding coats drawn down to their wrists, with gloomy looks, and their beards stiff with the frost. Pluto no longer growled at the heavy footsteps of these men. Hullin, plunged in thought, sat with his head between his hands, his elbows on the table, listening to all the reports: "Master Jean-Claude, there is something moving to be seen in the direction of Grandfontaine; there is a sound like the trampling of horses." "Master Jean-Claude, the brandy is frozen." "Master Jean-Claude, there are numbers asking for powder." "We want this--and that." "Let them keep a good look out upon Grandfontaine, and change the sentinels on that side every half-hour. Bring the brandy to the fire. Wait till Divès comes; he will bring a fresh supply of ammunition. Distribute the rest of the cartridges, and let those who have more than twenty give some to their comrades." And this was how it went on all night long. About five in the morning, Kasper, Materne's son, came to tell Hullin that Marc Divès, with a cartload of cartridges, Catherine Lefévre in another vehicle, and a detachment from Labarbe, had just arrived together, and that they were there awaiting him. This news pleased him greatly, especially on account of the cartridges, for he had feared the want of them might cause delay. He rose immediately and went out with Kasper. It was a strange and singular spectacle that met his eye. At daybreak, masses of thick fog were beginning to rise from the valley, the fires were crackling and sparkling in the mist, and people were lying sleeping about in every direction; here lay one, his hands clasped under his head, his face purple with cold, his legs bent under him; there another, with his cheek on his arm, and his back to the blazing fire; the greater part were sitting, their heads hanging down, and guns slung over their shoulders--a still and silent picture, revealed either in a flood of crimson light, or half hidden in the grey tinge of morning, according as the fire burnt high or low. Farther off, in the distance, the profiles of the sentinels were sharply outlined against the pale sky, as they stood resting on their guns, looking down on the cloud-covered abyss below. To the right, at about fifty paces from the last fire, was heard the neighing of horses, and people stamping with their feet to warm themselves, and talking loud. "Here is Master Jean-Claude," said Kasper, advancing.