Laubardemont collected himself, looked at his men, who pressed around him with advanced carabines; and, signing them to retire a few steps, he answered in a very low voice: 

“Give me the treaty, and thou shalt pass.”

“Here it is, in my girdle; touch it, and I will call you my father aloud.  What will thy master say?”

“Give it me, and I will spare thy life.”

“Let me pass, and I will pardon thy having given me that life.”

“Still the same, brigand?”

“Ay, assassin.”

“What matters to thee that boy conspirator?” asked the judge.

“What matters to thee that old man who reigns?” answered the other.

“Give me that paper; I’ve sworn to have it.”

“Leave it with me; I’ve sworn to carry it back.”

“What can be thy oath and thy God?” demanded Laubardemont.

“And thine?” replied Jacques.  “Is’t the crucifix of red-hot iron?”

Here Houmain, rising between them, laughing and staggering, said to the judge, slapping him on the shoulder.

“You are a long time coming to an understanding, friend; do-on’t you know him of old?  He’s a very good fellow.”

“I? no!” cried Laubardemont, aloud; “I never saw him before.”

At this moment, Jacques, who was protected by the drunkard and the smallness of the crowded chamber, sprang violently against the weak planks that formed the wall, and by a blow of his heel knocked two of them out, and passed through the space thus created.  The whole side of the cabin was broken; it tottered, and the wind rushed in.

“Hallo!  Demonio!  Santo Demonio! where art going?” cried the smuggler; “thou art breaking my house down, and on the side of the ravine, too.”

All cautiously approached, tore away the planks that remained, and leaned over the abyss.  They contemplated a strange spectacle.  The storm raged in all its fury; and it was a storm of the Pyrenees.  Enormous flashes of lightning came all at once from all parts of the horizon, and their fires succeeded so quickly that there seemed no interval; they appeared to be a continuous flash.  It was but rarely the flaming vault would suddenly become obscure; and it then instantly resumed its glare.  It was not the light that seemed strange on this night, but the darkness.

The tall thin peaks and whitened rocks stood out from the red background like blocks of marble on a cupola of burning brass, and resembled, amid the snows, the wonders of a volcano; the waters gushed from them like flames; the snow poured down like dazzling lava.

In this moving mass a man was seen struggling, whose efforts only involved him deeper and deeper in the whirling and liquid gulf; his knees were already buried.  In vain he clasped his arms round an enormous pyramidal and transparent icicle, which reflected the lightning like a rock of crystal; the icicle itself was melting at its base, and slowly bending over the declivity of the rock.  Under the covering of snow, masses of granite were heard striking against each other, as they descended into the vast depths below.  Yet they could still save him; a space of scarcely four feet separated him from Laubardemont.