"Do so, sergeant; and thank you. If you meet Gaspard, tell him that Jean-Claude Hullin embraces him, and that they expect tidings from him in the village."
"Good—good. I will not fail to do so."
The sergeant went out, and Hullin finished his wine in a reverie.
"Father Wittmann," said he, after a pause, "what of my parcel?"
"It is ready, Master Jean-Claude." Then, looking into the kitchen, "Grédel! Grédel! bring Hullin's parcel."
A little woman appeared, and put down on the table a roll of sheepskins. Jean-Claude passed his stick through it, and lifted it over his shoulder.
"What, you are going to leave us so soon?"
"Yes, Wittmann. The days are short, and the roads difficult through the forests after six o'clock. I must get back early."
"Then a safe journey to you, Master Jean-Claude."
Hullin left, and crossed the square, turning away his face from the convoy, which still remained before the church.