"Choose."
"Will you come with me, Jacques Aubry?" said Ascanio.
"To the end of the world, my dear fellow, to the end of the world. But I shouldn't be sorry to have some sort of a weapon, the end of a sword for instance, or a suspicion of a dagger—four or five inches of steel to feel my way with if occasion requires."
"Oh, take Pagolo's sword," said Ascanio; "he can't use it, for he's nursing his heel with his right hand and crossing himself with the other."
"And here's my own dagger to complete your outfit," said Cellini. "Strike with it all you please, young man, but do not leave it in the wound; it would be altogether too handsome a present to the wounded man, for the hilt was carved by myself, and is worth a hundred golden crowns, if it is worth a sou."
"And the blade?" queried Jacques Aubry. "The hilt is very valuable, no doubt, but at such a time the blade is of the greatest importance to my mind."
"The blade is priceless," rejoined Benvenuto; "with it I killed my brother's murderer."
"Bravo!" cried the student. "Come, Ascanio, let's be off."
"I am ready," said Ascanio, winding five or six lengths of rope around his body, and putting one of the ladders over his shoulder,—"I am ready."
The two venturesome youths walked along the quay a hundred yards or thereabouts, then turned to the left, and disappeared around the corner of the wall of the Grand-Nesle, behind the city moat.