He seized the stick again from behind the stable-door, and everybody would have been glad if he had belaboured that wretched publican. Coucou Peter even repaid Hans Aden, casting upon Thérèse so tender a look that she felt embarrassed to the bottom of her soul; he also kissed the child which she held in her arms. Then, in a loud ringing voice, he cried— “Forward, Maître Frantz! forward! Men are rascals!” Mathéus mounted on horseback, Coucou Peter threw open the gate into the field, and the mayor felt at ease only after seeing them disappear in the forest of Saverne. A great uproar then arose in the town; the prophet was called for, and the crowd demanded miracles! CHAPTER XV It is impossible to describe the dejection of Frantz Mathéus and his disciple after they had left Haslach. Coucou Peter could no longer control his anger; at every step he flourished his stick and exclaimed— “Rascally Anabaptist! rascally mayor! rascally Jacob Fischer! Ah, you scamps! if I only had you here, I’d make you dance! I would not leave a hair on your heads! To drive out so worthy a man!—a man who performs miracles!—a man worth more than all of you to the twentieth generation! Scamps! vagabonds! it’ll be a lucky day for you if I meet you sooner or later!” Thus spoke Coucou Peter, turning a backward glance from time to time, to see that no gendarmes were following on their track. The illustrious philosopher uttered not a word, but buried himself in his sorrow. It was not until much later, when they had reached the village of Tieffenbach, in one of the gorges of the mountain, that the good man appeared to recover himself. Then, raising his broad-brimmed hat, and wiping the perspiration from his streaming forehead, he said with singular calmness— “Dear disciple, we have passed through a very rude trial; let us return thanks to the Demiourgos who, as ever, has sheltered us beneath his ægis. In vain sophists pursue us with their insults, in vain they multiply obstacles and ambush themselves upon our path; all that but serves the better to exhibit the protection of the Being of Beings, who builds on us the fairest hopes.” “You are right, Doctor,” replied Coucou Peter; “when people can perform miracles like us they have nothing to fear. Before six months are over, I’ll re-enter Haslach in a bishop’s hat on a white horse; I’ll have two chorister-boys to carry the skirt of my robe, and others to burn incense under my nose; but, in the meanwhile, I think there will be no harm in our learning where we are going.” “Let not that distress you, my dear friend,” replied the illustrious philosopher; “we shall always find room enough before us. If we have not hitherto been successful, it is because we require a vaster theatre! You must observe that Providence has conducted us, in some measure against our inclinations, towards the larger towns; let us go to Saverne!” “To Saverne!—mind what you are about! Saverne’s a town full of lawyers and gendarmes!”