"And I," said the madman, greatly irritated--"I will not hear of such a thing!" Then rising up,--"Hullin," said he, in solemn tones, "it is my first demand. I will renew it yet twice again--dost thou hear--twice! And if thou wilt persist in thy obstinacy--misfortune, misfortune on thee and thy race!" "What! thou wilt not take any soup?" "No, no! I will accept nothing from thee so long as thou hast not consented. Nothing, nothing!" And then marching toward the door, much to the satisfaction of Louise, who was intent on the raven, fluttering its wings against the window-panes, he said, raising his sceptre,--"Twice again!" and departed. Hullin went off into a shout of laughter. "Poor devil!" he exclaimed. "In spite of himself, his nose turned toward the porringer. He has nothing in his inside--his teeth chatter with hunger. Well! his madness is stronger than either cold or hunger." "Oh, how he frightened me!" said Louise. "Come, come, my child, calm thyself. He is gone. He thinks thou art pretty, fool though he is; do not let that terrify thee." But although the madman had left, Louise still trembled, and felt herself blushing when she thought of how he had looked at her. Yégof had taken the road to Valtin. He could still be seen, his raven on his shoulder, walking slowly along and making curious gestures, although no one was near him. The night was drawing on, and soon the tall figure of "The King of Diamonds" disappeared in the gray shadows of the winter twilight. CHAPTER II THE SHOEMAKER'S VISITOR In the evening of that same day, after their supper, Louise, having taken her spinning-wheel, was gone for a little diversion to the Mother Rochart's where all the good women and young girls of the neighborhood used to assemble till near midnight. They spent their time in relating old legends, talking of the rain, of the weather, of marriages, baptisms, of the departure or return of the conscripts, and what not, that enabled them to pass the hours agreeably. Hullin remained alone before his little copper lamp, nailing the shoes of the old wood-cutter. He no longer thought of the madman Yégof. His hammer rose and fell, driving the great nails into the thick wooden shoes quite mechanically, by force of habit. In the meantime thousands of ideas came into his head; he was thoughtful without knowing why. Now it was Gaspard, who gave no signs of being alive; then it was the campaign, which was being indefinitely prolonged. The lamp threw its yellowish light around the smoky little room. Outside, not a sound. The fire began to die away. Jean-Claude rose to put on a fagot, then sat down again, muttering,--"Bah! this cannot last; we shall receive a letter one of these days."