But he could not keep awake. His eyes closed in spite of himself; his head sank upon his breast; he fell gently back in his chair, and was asleep. In a moment he roused himself only to do the same thing again. Over and over this happened, until at last it lacked but three hours of midnight.
“I can hold out no longer,” he sighed.“Ah, if only Friar Bungay could come!”
Then a new thought came into his mind. He rang a bell, and in a few minutes the servant Miles came sleepily in, carrying a heavy cudgel.
“Miles,” said the friar, “will you do me a great favor tonight?”
“I will do anything that I can, master,” answered Miles, rubbing his eyes， “but I can neither fly nor swim. What is it you would have done?”
“Do you see this brazen head?” said the friar; and as he spoke he touched a secret spring which caused sparks of light to flash from the image’s eyes.
“Oh, master, you know that I see it,” said Miles, stepping back in alarm.
“Well, then, you must know that for nine and thirty nights Friar Bungay and myself have watched this head. Sooner or later, yes, perhaps even before another morning dawns, its lips will utter a secret of the greatest importance to every Englishman. And sad will it be for us if we fail to hear what is said.”
“Yes, master,” said Miles, trembling as he glanced about the room.
“You need not be afraid of the brazen head,” said the friar, as he touched another spring. “It may d