In spite of his indignation, the illustrious philosopher could not help admiring the singular industry of the inhabitants of Haslach. Here a burly butcher, standing between two candles, sold three and even four different kinds of meats. These different meats, all thoroughly fresh, were a pleasure to look upon; while the pretty servant-girls, with their little baskets on their arms, their open eyes, and slightly turned-up noses, looked more fresh, more plump, more rosy than the steaks hanging on the hooks in the butcher’s shop. Here a blacksmith, with bare arms and smutty face, was working with his assistants at the back of his forge—the hammers clattering, the bellows blowing, the sparks flying out on the foot of the passers; and farther on, Conrad the tailor was making haste to finish for the fair a new scarlet waistcoat for the mayor’s assistant—his blackbird in its wicker-cage whistling a tune, with which he drew his needle in cadence. Magnificent cakes of all sizes met the sight in the bakers’ windows; and the apothecary, for this day, had placed in his window two big glass bottles, one filled with red, the other with blue water, with lamps behind them, producing a superb effect. “How grand the world is!” Mathéus said to himself; “each day civilisation makes fresh progress! What would you say, my good Martha, if you saw such a sight as this? You would not be able to believe your eyes; you could never have foreseen the triumph of your master on so vast a stage! But truth shines everywhere with eternal brilliancy, and overcomes envy, sophism, and vain prejudices!” The little caravan, jostled and driven from street to street, at last came in front of Jacob Fischer’s good old public-house, and Coucou Peter uttered an exclamation of joyous surprise. The lamp was swung above the door, lighting the whole of the front of the house, from the sign of the Three Roses to the stork’s nest on the topmost point of the gable. “Maître Frantz,” cried Coucou Peter, “do you like cheese-tarts?” “Why do you ask?” said the good man, surprised at such a question. “Because Mother Jacob made kougelhofs and cheese-tarts three days ago. It’s the only thing she thinks of; it’s what one might call her philosophical idea when the fair-time approaches. Daddy Jacob thinks only of bottling his wine and smoking his pipe behind the store; and when his wife calls he lets her call, knowing that nothing will stop her; for she is like a hen that’s going to lay—the more she is driven about the more noise she makes. But here we are. What a lot of people!—Come, Dame Thérèse, you may alight.—Maître Hans Aden, come and hold Schimel’s bridle, while I go and beg Daddy Jacob to take us in.”