At the word “treasures,” there was a great stir amongst the crowd; they expected to see him plunge his hand into a bag and throw money out of the window. Those who were farthest off instantly struggled to get nearer, and Katel the hunchback, who was in the front rank, began to scream; the poor woman, seeing others forcing their way before her, thought they would deprive her of her share. This appearance of interest gave evident pleasure to the illustrious philosopher. “Yes, my friends,” he continued, in a pathetic tone, “I bring you treasures of wisdom, treasures of philosophy and virtue!” The crowd was undeceived. “The devil fly away with you and your treasures of wisdom!” cried Ludwig Spengler; “you look to me to stand a good deal more in need of some than we do!” Mathéus, moved with indignation, stopped short, with the view of overwhelming this rude fellow with a grand apostrophe, but the little miller, Tapihans, approaching the window, took off his cotton cap and said— “Good day, Abraham, what are you doing here? Do you want to make Jews of us?” “My name is not Abraham,” cried the illustrious philosopher. “I am Frantz Mathéus, doctor of medicine of the faculty of Strasbourg, corresponding member of——” “Oh, I know you well,” interrupted the miller mockingly; “you call yourself Abraham Speizer, and not more than a year ago you sold me a blind horse, which I’ve never been able to get rid of. And, more than that, if I’m not mistaken, you must be the rabbi of Marmoutier!” Hardly had he uttered these words than a great commotion rose amidst the crowd. “Set upon the rabbi!—down with the rabbi!—on to the Jew!” “My children, you are deceived!” cried the good man, “your animal instincts blind you; listen to me!” But nobody would hear a word he had to say. The old women raised their broom-handles, the men their cudgels; some looked about for stones; and Mathéus, pale, overcome with emotion, stammered unintelligibly. Suddenly acting upon a luminous inspiration, he turned on his heels and fled into the kitchen. The shouts and tumult then redoubled outside the house. Dame Catherina herself was terrified. “Good heavens!” she cried, “what have you done, Doctor?” “Nothing, dear madame, nothing,” gasped the good man; “it’s the miller, it’s——” “Tapihans?—ah, the wretch! the wretch! He wants to separate us; he’s raised the village against us! But fly!” she cried, thrusting a large black-pudding into his pocket. “Fly! we shall see each other again; you will come some other time!” The illustrious philosopher did not need this advice; he had already hurried across the yard, stammering— “Yes, yes! we shall meet again in the spheres above!” He darted into the stable by the back door, and found his disciple buckling the girths of his horse. Coucou Peter had observed the scene from a window looking out on to the street, and foreseeing the issue of the sermonising, had come to saddle Bruno.