Seeing a raven fly by uttering a croak, he thought of the days when ravens brought food to Elijah, the pious recluse, and reflected that these birds were no longer so charitable.

Then, not being able to stand it any longer, he closed his window, drew the curtain, and, as he had not the wherewithal to buy oil for his lamp, lit a resin taper that he had brought back from a trip to the Grande-Chartreuse.

Sadder than ever he filled his pipe.
"Luckily, I still have enough tobacco to hide the pistol," murmured he, and he began to smoke.
My friend Jacques must have been very sad that evening to think about hiding the pistol.

It was his supreme resource on great crises, and was usually pretty successful.

The plan was as follows.