The fool had grown grave and gloomy again. Standing on the edge of the terrace, with his back to the abyss, he seemed on his own territory, and his raven, fluttering from right to left, had no power to disturb him. He raised his sceptre, knit his brow, and exclaimed:
"Then now, for the second time, Hullin, I reiterate my demand; and for the second time you dare to refuse me! Now I will renew it yet once more—once more, do you hear? and then let destiny be fulfilled!"
And so, turning gravely on his heel, his head high and erect, in spite of the extreme rapidity of the descent, he vanished quickly from their sight.
Hullin, Marc Divès, and even Hexe-Baizel herself, uttered loud peals of laughter.
"He is a great fool," said Hexe-Baizel.
"I think you are not altogether wrong," replied the smuggler. "That poor Yégof is certainly out of his mind. But never mind that now. Baizel, listen well to me; you must begin to cast bullets of all sizes; for my part, I am going to set out for Switzerland. In a week at the latest, the rest of our ammunition will be here. Give me my boots."
Then tying round his neck a thick red woollen comforter, he took down from the wall one of those cloaks of dark green such as shepherds wear, threw it over his shoulders, pulled his old slouched hat over his brows, took a stout cudgel, and exclaimed:
"Do not forget what I have just told you, old woman, or beware. Forward, Jean-Claude!"
Hullin followed him out upon the terrace without saying good-bye to Hexe-Baizel, who, for her part, did not even deign to come to the door to see them depart. As soon as they had arrived at the foot of the rock, Marc Divès stopped, and said: