“Yes, let’s go to Strasbourg. Gredel, get up and make us some breakfast. Go back to your room, Maître Frantz; in five minutes I shall be ready.”
The illustrious philosopher returned to his chamber, and Coucou Peter shortly rejoined him, buttoning on his braces.
“My wife is already in the kitchen, Maître Frantz,” he said; “I’ll go and saddle Bruno, and in less than an hour we shall be off.”
Mathéus, however, returned in the course of a few minutes, to tell him what had passed on the previous night. Coucou Peter learned with pleasure that they were being sought in the neighbourhood of Haslach.
“Good!” he said—“good! We need not be in a hurry, but may get our breakfast quietly.”
Together they went down into the kitchen, and found Gredel cooking steaks on the gridiron and preparing the coffee.
The grey hues of morning were spreading through the kitchen, the fire crackled, thousands of glittering sparks flew up the black chimney, and Maître Frantz sat gravely contemplating the scene and thinking of Graufthal.
At the end of a quarter of an hour, Coucou Peter returned and reported that Bruno had eaten his feed of oats with visible satisfaction. Then, turning to his wife, “Give me your best knife, Gredel,” he said; “I want it.”
“What do you want with it?” she asked.
“You’ll see—you’ll see presently.”