About an hour after he had left the village of Charmes, Hullin, climbing the summit of the steep mountain, reached the foot of rock of the Arbousiers. All around this huge mass of granite extends a sort of rocky terrace, three or four feet wide. This narrow footway, canopied by the tall tops of the slender mountain firs, looks dangerous, but it is safe; unless attacked by giddiness, you can walk along it without risk. Above rises the rocky and ruinous archway of the cavern.
Jean-Claude drew near the smuggler's retreat. He stopped a few moments on the terrace, put his pipe back in his pocket, then advanced along the path, which describes a half circle, and ends on the other side by a sudden gap.
At the very end, and almost on the edge of this gap, he perceived the two lattices of the cave, and the half-opened doorway, in front of which an immense heap of dung was piled.
At the same moment Hexe-Baizel made her appearance, sweeping the dung into the abyss with a large besom made of green broom. She was a little, withered woman, with red tangled locks, hollow cheeks, sharp nose, small eyes sparkling like stars, pinched mouth, amply furnished with very white teeth, and a ruddy complexion. As to her costume, it was composed of a very short and very dirty woollen petticoat, a coarse chemise, tolerably clean; her small, muscular arms, covered with a sort of yellow down, were bare to the elbows, in spite of the excessive cold of the atmosphere at this height. To complete her costume, the only coverings to her feet were a pair of old worn-out shoes, down at the heel.
"Ah! good morrow, Hexe-Baizel," exclaimed Jean-Claude, in a tone of mocking good humour. "You are as fat and comely as ever—I see, happy and contented! It does one good to see you."
Hexe-Baizel had started at the first sound of Jean-Claude's voice like a weasel caught in a trap; her red hair seemed to stand on end, and her little sparkling eyes flashed fire; but she instantly recovered herself, and exclaimed, in a short, sharp tone, as if speaking to herself:
"Hullin! the shoemaker! what does he want?"
"I have come to see my friend Marc, fair Hexe-Baizel," replied Jean-Claude; "we have some business to settle."
"What business?"
"Ah! that is our affair. Come, let me go in, that I may speak to him."