The cries of the vegetable-sellers woke Frantz Mathéus at an early hour.
The city was still covered with the Rhine mists, and heavy vehicles were
rumbling over the pavements.
What a difference from his little village of Graufthal, so calm, so
peaceful in its valley of pines!—where the vague murmur of the foliage,
the carolling of the birds, and the merry chatting of neighbours on the
thresholds of their little cottages, hardly disturbed its matutinal
repose! How the least sighs, the smallest sounds, made themselves
distinctly heard there, in the midst of the silence! How sweet it was
to dream of the Great Demiourgos until good old Martha brought him his
slippers!
Long did the illustrious philosopher, with his elbow on the pillow,
picture to himself this domestic happiness; these tranquil mountain
scenes, with their paths half hidden in the heather; the soft murmur of
the Zinsel in its stony bed; the fisherman returning along the river’s
bank, his long rod and large net on his shoulder; the poacher, moist with
dew, his short gun under his arm, returning at daybreak; the woodman in
his smoky hut, his axe in his waistbelt. Jean-Claude Wachtmann himself,
with his little three-cornered hat and large nose, then appeared to him
a privileged being of nature, enjoying immense—incalculable—happiness!
while he, poor exile, without hearth or home, repulsed on all sides,
having not even a stone to rest his head upon, considered himself as the
most unhappy, the most outcast, of all the beings in the world! Ah! if he
had not that high mission to fulfil!—if he had not been predestined from
the beginning of the ages for the destruction of sophistry and prejudice!
But this mission itself—what bitterness, what misfortune, what deception,
had it not brought upon him! Alas! poor Mathéus! how could he accomplish
it? Whither should he go on leaving the brewery? What should he do on the
evening of that very day?
In the midst of these thoughts the good man dressed himself, and slowly
descending the stairs went into the chief dining-room. When he entered
the windows were all open, the servants sprinkling and sweeping the
floor. Madame Müller was filling with fruit and slices of bread the
little baskets of her children, before sending them to school. It was
a scene of animation which almost made him forget the difficulties of
converting the universe. Moreover, Kasper Müller and Coucou Peter, seated
at one of the little tables in the room, greeted him gaily, and his
spirits slightly rose.
“Good morning, my dear monsieur! What sort of a night have you passed?”
“You are just in time for breakfast, Maître Frantz!”
“Take a seat, Doctor. Catherine, this is the gentleman I told you of.”
“Most happy to see you, monsieur, and to know you. My husband has told me
so much that is good of you.”
It was thus that the Doctor was received. He was pressed to take his
seat at table, and Charlotte speedily appeared with two pots containing
the coffee and hot milk.
On this occasion, the illustrious philosopher had once more to remark the
sensual spirit of his disciple; for as Charlotte poured out the coffee
Coucou Peter cried—
“Give me a great deal of coffee—I’ll tell you why.”
Mathéus made a sign to him to restrain his gluttony; but that did not
prevent him from calling out again—
“Give me a great deal of milk—I’ll tell you why.”
“Very well, monsieur—very well,” replied Charlotte, filling the cup up to
the brim; then placing the coffee-pots on the table, and waiting to hear
Coucou Peter’s explanation.
“Well, what are you waiting for, my dear?” inquired the gay fiddler.
“For you to tell me why you wanted a great deal of coffee and a great
deal of milk.”
“Ah!—it’s because I always put a great deal of sugar in my cup,” he
replied.
Everybody laughed at this answer, and Mathéus did not venture to make any
objection.
During breakfast, which passed gaily, the illustrious philosopher had no
time to reflect on his future projects; but towards the end of the meal,
remembering that the time for departure was approaching, and still not
knowing where to go, the good man’s face became again very serious.
Kasper Müller appeared to read to the bottom of his soul.
“Doctor,” he said, “you must make me a promise.”
“Ah, my dear friend, anything in my power to do for you I will do with
the greatest pleasure.”
“Very well; that’s understood, then. Now, listen to me. If you have to
stay here longer, I beg that you will take advantage of my table and
lodging.”
Maître Frantz made a gesture as if about to rise, but Kasper Müller,
laying a hand upon his arm, said—
“Hear me out—you shall then answer me. A person more or less makes no
difference in my house.”
“Nor two neither,” added Coucou Peter; “where there’s enough for three
there’s enough for four.”
But Kasper Müller paid no attention to this remark, and went on—
“I have your promise. Now, if you were to consult me on your grand
projects, I should tell you frankly, that, in your place, I should return
to Graufthal.”
Maître Frantz looked at his host with moistened eyes, but made no reply.
A great resolution was plainly struggling in his heart.
“I should go to Graufthal,” repeated Kasper Müller, forcibly: “in the
first place, because I should be able to do more good there than anywhere
else; in the next place, because men are not worth the trouble you are
taking for them; they either do not, or will not, understand you, and
God can always enlighten His children when it pleases Him to do so; and,
finally, because, in your place, I should think I had earned the right of
resting myself.”
Kasper Müller spoke in a firm tone; every word he uttered came from
his heart. Maître Frantz became pale and red by turns. He hid his face
between his two hands, and cried—
“Do you think I have done enough for human kind?—that posterity will not
reproach me?—that I have fulfilled my duty?”
“Done enough! What philosopher can boast of having done as much as
you?—of having fulfilled his duties like you—of having sacrificed
everything for his doctrine? Come, my dear and worthy friend, shed no
tears; when a man has behaved as you have, he has nothing to weep for.
The evidence of your own conscience is all that you can require to
sustain you.”
These kind words softened Maître Frantz’s anguish; his tears fell
unchecked, as if they poured from a spring; he felt vanquished by
fortune, and the judicious advice of an honest man. But Coucou Peter,
seeing that he was about to lose his place of Chief Rabbi, struck his
fist and cried—
“But _I_ say, we are sure to conquer the universe! The best moment isn’t
the time to choose for throwing up the game. And the place of Chief Rabbi
I was promised—for you did promise it to me, Maître Frantz, you can’t
deny that!”
Mathéus made no reply; he had neither strength nor courage to do so; but
Kasper Müller, laying his hand on the worthy fellow’s shoulder, said to
him—
“I have a place for you, comrade—a place that will suit you much better
than that of Chief Rabbi. I have a place of cellarman vacant—forty francs
a month, lodging, board, and the generosity of the customers. Eh?—what
say you?”
The fat round face of Coucou Peter expanded with satisfaction.
“Ah, Maître Kasper, you have a way of taking people on their weak side!”
“You renounce the dignity of Chief Rabbi, then?” cried the brewer.
“Well—since Maître Frantz——”
“No, no! you must decide the question for yourself.”
“I’ faith, then,” cried Coucou Peter, rising, “long live the cellar! My
proper place is there.”
As soon as his disciple had renounced the doctrine, the illustrious
philosopher breathed more freely; and, raising his hands, he said—
“The Being of Beings has decided; His will be done!”
These were his only words of regret; for, with the thought that he should
return to Graufthal, a joy as great as it was complete descended to the
depths of his soul—a joy which no words can describe. As much ardour as
he had felt in quitting his village, he now felt to return to it. The
brewer’s wife joined with Kasper Müller in representing to him that he
stood in need of one or two days’ rest; but that was a thing impossible.
“I must go,” he said, walking about the room; “I must go. Do not try to
detain me, my dear lady; I should be distressed to refuse you anything.
The destinies are accomplished! Coucou Peter, go and saddle Bruno; go,
Coucou Peter, the sooner you do it the better. Ah, my dear friend, if you
knew what a load you have taken from my breast! For the last two days
I have hardly breathed; every step that took me farther from Graufthal
has overwhelmed me with sadness. But I am going back!—thank Heaven, I am
going back to it!”
Maître Kasper, seeing him so decided, attempted no further to dissuade
him. He went out with Coucou Peter, and helped him to saddle the horse.
Maître Frantz had followed and moved round them, unable to conceal his
impatience. At length, seeing that all was ready, the good man threw his
arms warmly about Maître Kasper’s neck, crying—
“O noble heart! worthy son of Georges Müller! I shall never forget the
services you have rendered me. May the Being of Beings shed His blessings
on you and on your family!”
He also embraced Dame Catherine, then Coucou Peter, who sobbed. At last
he was setting foot in the stirrup, with singular briskness, when he felt
the tail of his coat pulled, and at the same time Coucou Peter slipped
something into his pocket.
“What are you doing, my friend?” asked Maître Frantz.
“Nothing, Doctor, nothing; only some earnest-money my new master has
given me. Now that you are no longer a prophet you’ll want money. But
remember that your road is through Brumath, Wasselonne, and Saverne; you
must stop at the Corne d’Abondance; and you must not let yourself be
cheated by the landlords, Doctor—you are too good.”
During this discourse Mathéus observed his disciple with an air of
inexpressible tenderness.
“Oh, Coucou Peter—Coucou Peter!” he cried, “what a man you would be if
the unhappy instincts of the flesh had not such an empire over you! What
goodness of heart! What natural simplicity! What a spirit of justice! You
would be perfect!”
They once more embraced and wept anew.
At length the Doctor succeeded in getting into the saddle and rode away,
repeating—
“May the Being of Beings recompense you all! May He shower his benefits
upon you! Farewell!”