"But I," exclaimed the fool, in an angry tone, "will not listen to that." Then rising, "Hullin," said he, resuming his solemn air, "this is my first offer. I shall renew it twice. Do you hear? Twice! And if you persist in your obstinacy, woe! woe to you and to your race!" "What! will you not eat your soup?" "No! no!" yelled the fool. "I will accept nothing from you till you have consented. Nothing! nothing!" And as he went towards the door, to the great joy of Louise, who kept watching the raven flap his wings against the window-panes, he said, raising his sceptre, "Twice more!" and went out. Hullin burst into a loud laugh. "Poor devil!" said he. "In spite of himself, his mouth watered for the soup. His stomach is empty--his teeth chattered with cold and hunger. Well, folly is stronger than either." "Oh, how he did frighten me," said Louise. "Well, well, my child, never mind; he is gone. He can see you are pretty, fool as he is. There is nothing in that to be afraid of." But in spite of these words, and the departure of the fool, Louise still trembled, and felt herself blush as she thought of the looks the wretched being had cast on her. In the meantime, Yégof had retaken the road to Valtin. He could be seen walking gravely away, his raven perched upon his shoulder, and making strange signs and gestures, although there was no one near him. Night was at hand, and soon the tall form of the King of Diamonds blended with the gray tints of the winter twilight, and finally disappeared. [Illustration] FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 1: Roads to which the trunks of trees felled or blown down in the forest are conveyed are called _schlitte_, or sledge, roads.] [Footnote 2: Without home or fireside.] [Footnote 3: Properly _tree-fellers_.] [Footnote 4: Song.] [Footnote 5: Poet, minstrel.] CHAPTER II. On the evening of the same day, after supper, Louise, having taken her spinning-wheel, had gone to spend the evening with Dame Rochart, at whose cottage all the old gossips and young girls of the neighbourhood were in the habit of assembling, relating old legends, chatting about the rain, the weather, marriages, christenings, the departure or the return of the conscripts, and what not--all of which helped to pass away the time in a very agreeable manner. Hullin sat alone, opposite his little copper lamp, repairing the old wood-cutter's sabots. Already he thought no more of the fool, Yégof; his hammer went up and down, hitting the big nails into the thick wooden soles, and all mechanically, and from force of habit. A thousand thoughts, however, passed through his head; he was a dreamer without knowing why. At times he thought of Gaspard, who, for a long while, had given no sign of life; then of the campaign, which was being indefinitely prolonged. The lamp lit up with its yellowish flame the little smoky cabin. Outside not a sound was to be heard. The fire was almost out; Jean-Claude rose to throw on a fresh log, then sat down again, murmuring: