These judicious considerations decided Mathéus to moderate his impatience. Coucou Peter brought him the pastor’s dressing-gown and slippers; Gredel blacked his boots and brushed his brown coat; Maître Frantz shaved himself, as he was used to do at Graufthal; finally, having put on a clean shirt in an adjoining room, and completed all his preparations, the illustrious philosopher and the pastor took their way together towards the casino. Coucou Peter, who stayed with Gredel, followed them to the door, candle in hand, and wished them all sorts of good-fortune. CHAPTER XVIII. In passing up the ancient Rue des Capucins, Maître Frantz felt a real enjoyment from having changed his shirt and shaved himself; his mind was filled with invincible arguments, and the moon in a manner went before him to conduct him to the casino. A confused murmur announced that the little Chapel of Saint Jean was full of the faithful; no other sound was heard in the street; all the women were at worship, and all the men at the public-house. Maître Frantz and the pastor proceeded for some time in silence, inhaling with pleasure the fresh evening air, so pleasant after a good meal; watching the rapid light that escapes from a door quickly opened and shut, a lantern moving in the midst of the darkness, a shadow appearing behind well-lighted window-panes—in short, those vague experiences of night so full of dreamy mystery and inexpressible charm; but, speedily animated by his anthropo-zoological meditation, the illustrious philosopher quickened his pace. “Stay a moment, my dear monsieur—stay a moment,” said the pastor; “you run like a hare. Give me a moment to take breath.” “Will all the company be assembled?” inquired Mathéus. “Not yet—not yet; there’s no cause for hurrying. What would be said if judges, barristers, and procureurs were to go to drink and play at midday? It wouldn’t be respectable; they must wait until the public-houses are shut up, and set an example of good morals.” Thus spoke the pastor, which did not prevent Maître Frantz Mathéus from pressing forward with lengthened strides, under the impulsion of new enthusiasm, murmuring to himself—“Courage, Frantz! Listen not to the counsels of a false wisdom and of a cowardly love of repose; the captious windings of sophistry shall neither bewilder your intelligence nor hinder your triumphant march.” The pastor laughed at his precipitation. “Where are you rushing, my dear monsieur—where are you rushing?” he cried, on the doorstep of the casino. “Don’t you see where we are?” Looking about him, Maître Frantz observed tall windows shining in the midst of the darkness, with the figures of dancers flitting across their red curtains. “It is here,” he thought, “that the regeneration of mankind is about to be accomplished!”