"Very well; I will go myself. Come, let us go to bed again."
"No; I cannot sleep any more."
"As you will.—Light your pipe, then, and let us talk."
As soon as day dawned, I took the watch from the table. It was a very fine one, with two dials—one for the hours, the other for the minutes. Wilfrid seemed, however, by this time, to have regained his assurance.
"Kasper," he said, "all things considered, it will be better for me to go to the provost. You are too young for such a piece of business. You will not be able to explain properly."
"Just as you choose," I replied.
"Besides, it would seem strange for a man of my age to send a child."
"Oh, yes, Wilfrid; I understand."
I saw that his self-esteem had driven him to this resolution. He would have been ashamed to own to his comrades that he had shown less courage than I.
He took the watch, and we descended the stairs with grave faces. Passing through the alley which leads to the street Saint-Christophe, we heard the clinking of glasses and knives and forks. At the same time I recognised the voices of old Bremer and his two sons.