All at once, outside, the crisp snow crackled beneath a rapid footstep. He listened—there was some one. And almost immediately after he heard two little taps at the window. He ran and opened it. The rough head of Marc Divès, with his broad-brimmed hat quite stiff with frost, was visible in the gloom.
"Well, Marc, what news?"
"Have you warned the mountaineers—Materne, Jerôme, Labarbe?"
"Yes, all."
"It is but just in time: the enemy has passed."
"Passed?"
"Yes, along the whole line. I have come fifteen leagues through the snow since morning to tell you."
"Good! we must give the signal—a large bonfire on the Falkenstein."
Hullin was very pale. He put on his shoes again. Two minutes after, with his thick great-coat flung over his shoulders, and his stick in his hand, he softly opened the door, and was following Marc with hasty strides along the footpath of the Falkenstein.