"Marc is asleep."
"Well, then, he must be awakened, for time presses."
So saying, Hullin stooped under the doorway, and entered a cavern, whose vaulted roof, instead of being round, was formed in irregular curves, furrowed with crevices. Quite close to the entrance, and two feet from the ground, the rock made a sort of natural hearth; on this hearth a few lumps of coal and some juniper branches were burning. All Hexe-Baizel's cooking utensils consisted of a copper saucepan, an earthenware porringer, two cracked plates, and three or four pewter spoons; all her furniture of a wooden bench, a wood-cutter's hatchet, a salt-box hung against the rock, and her large besom made of green broom. To the left of this kitchen was another cavern, with an uneven-shaped door, larger at the bottom than the top, and which shut by means of two planks and a cross-beam.
"Well, where is Marc?" said Hullin, as he seated himself beside the hearth.
"I've told you already he is asleep. He came home very late yesterday. My man must have his rest; do you understand?"
"I understand very well, Hexe-Baizel; but I've no time to wait."
"Begone, then."
"It's very easy to say 'Begone,' only I don't want to go. I've not come a whole league to go back with my hands in my pockets."
"Is that you, Hullin?" broke in a rough voice, issuing from the inner cave.
"Yes, Marc."