The tall houses with their jagged gables overhung the tumult, throwing the light of their little windows upon the excited crowd. All these pilgrims from Alsace, from Lorraine, and from the mountains, congregated about the public-houses and inns like ants; others had settled themselves along the walls, others under sheds or in barns. The sound of bagpipes, the dull lowing of oxen, the clatter of horses’ hoofs, the patois of the Lorrainers and Germans, made an incredible confusion. What a subject for meditation for Mathéus! It was then that Hans Aden and Dame Thérèse felt glad of having met Coucou Peter; what would they have done without him in the midst of such a turmoil? The joyous fiddler pushed aside the crowd, crying, “By your leave!” stopping at the most difficult points, leading Schimel by the bridle, advising Mathéus not to lose himself, animating Bruno, knocking at the inn doors to ask for lodging. But, in spite of all said concerning little Thérèse, the mayor, and the illustrious philosopher, he was everywhere answered— “Go farther on, my good people, and may Heaven guide you!” He never lost courage, and cried gaily— “Forward!—Never mind, Dame Thérèse, never mind; we shall find our snug corner all the same.—Aha, Maître Frantz! what do you say to this? To-morrow we’ll set to preaching.—Maître Hans Aden, take care of that cart!—Come along, Schimel!—Hey! Bruno!” The others were almost stupefied. Mathéus, seeing that the people of Haslach sold their hay, straw, and everything else to the poor pilgrims worn-out with fatigue, felt his soul oppressed with sorrow. “Oh, hard and unbelieving hearts!” he cried to himself, “know you not that this spirit of lucre and traffic will cause you to descend the Ladder of Beings?” Unfortunately nobody minded him, and several people at windows even laughed at his simplicity. “In Heaven’s name, Maître Frantz,” cried Coucou Peter, “don’t make any anthropo-zoological speeches to these people, without you want to run the risk of having to spend the night under the stars, and worse still!” As to Dame Thérèse, she pressed the brave fiddler’s arm, to his evident satisfaction.