At this moment, Divès and his men were taking the powder to the cart-house, and as Jean-Claude approached the nearest fire, what was not his surprise to see among those surrounding it, the fool Yégof, with his crown on his head, gravely seated on a stone, his feet on the embers, and with his rags draped around him like a royal mantle. Nothing more singular can be imagined than the appearance of this strange figure in the firelight. Yégof was the only one of the number who was awake, and he might really have been taken for some barbarous king, musing in the midst of his sleeping horde of savages. Hullin, for his part, saw only a fool, and gently touching his shoulder: "How are you, Yégof?" said he, in an ironical tone; "you have come, then, to lend the succour of your invincible arm, and your innumerable armies!" The fool, without betraying the least surprise, replied: "That depends upon you, Hullin; your own fate, with every one else's, is in your hands. Here are we, just as we were sixteen hundred years ago, on the eve of a great battle. Then I, the leader of so many peoples, I came to your khan to demand the passage." "Sixteen hundred years ago!" said Hullin; "what the deuce, Yégof, that makes us terribly old! But, after all, what does it matter? Every one has his own notion of things." "Yes," replied the fool, "but, with your usual obstinacy, you would not listen to anything. The dead lay in heaps on the Blutfeld, and those dead cry aloud for vengeance!" "Ah! the Blutfeld," said Jean-Claude; "yes, yes, it's an old story; I think I've heard tell of it." Yégof's brow grew crimson; his eyes flashed fire. "You boast of your victory!" he exclaimed, "but take care, take care: blood calls for blood." Then, in a gentler tone: "Listen," added he, "I wish you no ill: you are brave; the children of your race may mingle with those of mine." "Ah! now he is coming back again to Louise," thought Jean-Claude; and, anticipating a formal demand: "Yégof," said he, "I am sorry, but I must leave you; I have so many things to see to----" The fool did not wait the end of this leave-taking, and rising with his face convulsed with rage: "You refuse me your daughter!" he exclaimed, pointing upwards with a solemn air. "And it is for the third time! Beware! Beware!" Hullin, despairing of making him listen to reason, hastily withdrew; but the fool, in furious accents, addressed to him as he went these strange words: "Huldrix, woe to thee! Thy last hour is near. Wolves will feast again upon thy flesh. All is over. I let loose upon thee the tempests of my rage. For thee and thine let there be neither grace, nor pity, nor mercy. Thou hast willed it so." And, throwing a portion of his ragged robe over his left shoulder, he strode rapidly away towards the summit of the Donon.