Towards eight o’clock, after Lotchè had brought the antique lamp of polished glass, the burgomaster said to the counsellor,— “We have no other urgent matter to consider?” “No, Van Tricasse; none that I know of.” “Have I not been told, though,” asked the burgomaster, “that the tower of the Oudenarde gate is likely to tumble down?” “Ah!” replied the counsellor; “really, I should not be astonished if it fell on some passer-by any day.” “Oh! before such a misfortune happens I hope we shall have come to a decision on the subject of this tower.” “I hope so, Van Tricasse.” “There are more pressing matters to decide.” “No doubt; the question of the leather-market, for instance.” “What, is it still burning?” “Still burning, and has been for the last three weeks.” “Have we not decided in council to let it burn?” “Yes, Van Tricasse—on your motion.” “Was not that the surest and simplest way to deal with it?” “Without doubt.” “Well, let us wait. Is that all?” “All,” replied the counsellor, scratching his head, as if to assure himself that he had not forgotten anything important. “Ah!” exclaimed the burgomaster, “haven’t you also heard something of an escape of water which threatens to inundate the low quarter of Saint Jacques?” “I have. It is indeed unfortunate that this escape of water did not happen above the leather-market! It would naturally have checked the fire, and would thus have saved us a good deal of discussion.” “What can you expect, Niklausse? There is nothing so illogical as accidents. They are bound by no rules, and we cannot profit by one, as we might wish, to remedy another.” It took Van Tricasse’s companion some time to digest this fine observation. “Well, but,” resumed the Counsellor Niklausse, after the lapse of some moments, “we have not spoken of our great affair!” “What great affair? Have we, then, a great affair?” asked the burgomaster. “No doubt. About lighting the town.” “O yes. If my memory serves me, you are referring to the lighting plan of Doctor Ox.” “Precisely.” “It is going on, Niklausse,” replied the burgomaster. “They are already laying the pipes, and the works are entirely completed.” “Perhaps we have hurried a little in this matter,” said the counsellor, shaking his head. “Perhaps. But our excuse is, that Doctor Ox bears the whole expense of his experiment. It will not cost us a sou.” “That, true enough, is our excuse. Moreover, we must advance with the age. If the experiment succeeds, Quiquendone will be the first town in Flanders to be lighted with the oxy—What is the gas called?” “Oxyhydric gas.” “Well, oxyhydric gas, then.” At this moment the door opened, and Lotchè came in to tell the burgomaster that his supper was ready.