“I knew well,” he said, “that souls cannot retrograde in the order of Nature; it is impossible—contrary to the system; therefore my surprise was great, and it was that which made me discover your trick. The human soul cannot exist in the body of an animal; it could not find sufficient room for the brain.” The good man amused himself over his surprise a long time, and Coucou Peter did likewise, holding his sides. They were still laughing, when Mother Windling, in a short woollen petticoat, striped with red, her arms bare to her elbows, still fresh-looking and full of grace, opened the yard-door and descended the steps. She had come to feed her poultry, her apron filled with peas, millet-seed, and all sorts of grain. “Ah! good morning, Doctor,” she cried, on seeing Mathéus; “up so soon! Have you had a good night?” “Very good, my dear madam—very good,” replied Mathéus. “Shall I go and light the kitchen fire, Dame Catherina?” interrupted the fiddler. “Yes, go, Coucou Peter; I shall be back presently. You shall see some beautiful hens, Doctor. They’re a real blessing. Chick! chick! chick! chick! Three of them lay every day, and such eggs! Chick-chick! chick-chick!—eggs as big as your fists. Chick-chick! chick-chick-chick!” The fowls darted forward, the ducks waddled, the geese hurried with their wings spread, and all of them cackled, cried, and quacked. They came from all sides; top-knotted, feather-legged, large and small, blacks and whites, yellows and reds; all struggling, springing, flying delightfully. “How charming to see!” murmured the illustrious philosopher. “Oh, Nature, Nature, fecund mother! rich-bosomed goddess! animation! breath divine! Thy riches and variety are boundless!” Mother Windling sidled, bridled, and smiled, attributing to herself the best part of these eulogiums. “Aren’t my hens plump and well kept?” she asked. “I give them the best of everything. Look at that great white one; she has laid every day these three weeks. And the grey one down there, with the yellow feathers about her eyes, she’s a real household treasure! Only imagine! I’ve seen her lay twice in a day, an egg in the morning and another in the evening, besides those she hides. Look at that little black cock, a perfect little demon! The day before yesterday he fought and beat the big one, on account of the little red hen there, a regular little shrew to set them by the ears! I’ll bet they’re going to set-to again. What did I say! You little villains, will you leave off? Did one ever see the like!” But all her calling out was of no avail; the two rivals were engaged, beak to beak, with bristling neck-feathers, springing one above the other, pecking viciously, turning, leaping, and pursuing one another with incredible fury; fortunately a fresh handful of grain caused the two to suspend the battle.