Eleven o’clock
` Well , yes ; since we can not create anything , since we are but feeble copyists , we might as well put an end to ourselves at once . ' Again they found themselves before the burning pile of old rotten coffins , now fully alight , sweating and crackling ; but there were still no flames to be seen , the smoke alone had increased -- a thick acrid smoke , which the wind carried along in whirling coils , so that it now covered the whole cemetery as with a cloud of mourning . ` Dash it ! Eleven o'clock ! ' said Bongrand , after pulling out his watch . ` I must get home again . ' Sandoz gave an exclamation of surprise : ` What , already eleven ? '