When Coucou Peter had completely cajoled his little wife, who was, after all, not so thin, and when he had kissed the children, one after the other, and whispered to them that his travelling-trunk was filled with nice things, Gredel returned to the kitchen; and Coucou Peter, as well as the pastor and Mathéus, seated themselves before a bottle of old wolxheim. The whole house wore a holiday aspect; the children sang, whistled, and ran into the street to watch for the arrival of the promised travelling-trunk; the fowls—the necks of which were wrung by Gredel—uttered piercing cries; Coucou Peter gave an account of his distant peregrinations, of his title of “Grand Rabbi,” and of his future prospects; the illustrious philosopher admired himself in the course of these marvellous tales; the glasses were filled and emptied, as if by themselves; and the fat stomach of Pastor Schweitzer shook merrily at the recital of the innumerable adventures of his old comrade. “Ha! ha! ha!—a good, joke!” he cried; “you’ll never change, Coucou Peter!—you’ll never change; nobody makes me laugh like you!” Night had closed in, and the shadows of the neighbouring houses had spread themselves in the large sitting-room, when Gredel brought in lights. She was about to serve up the supper, and quickly spread a cloth upon the table, arranged the covers, and distributed the plates in proper order. Coucou Peter looked at her admiringly; never had he seen her looking so fresh, plump, and attractive; he was astonished at himself for not having before discovered all the merits of his wife, and, suddenly rising, as if transported with enthusiasm, he passed his arm round her waist, and began to waltz with her, crying— “Hey, Gredel! hey!—off we go!” “Don’t play the fool!—don’t play the fool!” she cried. But he paid no attention to what she said, and went on twirling her round and calling out— “Hey, Gredel! off we go!” Finally, he gave her a sounding kiss on the neck, and exclaimed— “You are my little Gredel—always my good little Gredel—the prettiest little Gredel I have ever met with in my life!” He then returned to his seat, gravely crossed his legs, and appeared greatly contented with himself for what he had done. The children rushed in, crying— “Nonon Coucou Peter; the trunk has not come!” “Hasn’t it?” he said. “That’s very strange—very strange; but wait a bit longer, it’s sure to come, quite sure to come!” These fair promises did not satisfy them; but the sight of some apple-fritters, tartlets, and hot galette, which Gredel was placing on the table, restored them to good temper. Before Mathéus and Coucou Peter had taken their places, they had seated themselves round the table, with napkins under their chins; and when the party was arranged, and the minister in a solemn tone returned thanks to God for the many excellent things He had sent into the world for the use of His children, it was delightful to hear them all cry at once—“Amen!”