“I think, Maître Frantz, the Being of Beings has forgotten us at the present moment. By my faith, we should do no harm to go and earn a few sous in the beershops, instead of waiting till He sends us a supper. If you knew how to sing, I should say come in with me; but as it is, I’ll go in alone, and you can wait for me at the door.” This proposition appeared very humiliating to Mathéus, but not knowing what answer to make, he resigned himself, and followed his disciple, who went up the Grande Rue and took his violin out of its bag. Nothing could be sadder to see than the good Doctor going from public-house to public-house, and watching through the window his disciple dancing sometimes on one leg, sometimes on the other, to support the doctrine. He was obliged to remind himself of his high mission, and say to himself that the Being of Beings wished to test his courage before raising him to the highest experience of glory; he did not fail to despise the rich warehouses, the magnificent displays, the luxury and opulence about him, crying to himself— “Vanitas vanitatum, est omnia vanitas! Your pride is but as dust, O great ones of the earth! You will pass away like shadows, and be as if you had never been!” All these sublime truths served very little purpose; and, to add to the distress, Bruno was strongly inclined to enter every inn he came to. They stopped before more than twenty taverns, and towards nine o’clock Coucou Peter had yet but five sous in his pocket. “Doctor,” he said, “things are going wrong; here are three sous, if you like to take a glass; for myself, I shall go and buy a loaf, for my stomach is getting emptier every moment.” “Thanks, Coucou Peter—thanks!” replied the good man, very sadly. “I am not thirsty; but listen to me. I recollect now that Georges Müller, the landlord of the Heron hotel, made me promise never to put up at any other house than his. It was on the last day of our Fuchcommerce, our studies being finished. Georges Müller, seeing that my comrades and I had paid up all our debts, shook us by the hand, and offered us his hotel if by chance any of us returned to Strasbourg. The promise I remember as well as if it had been given to-day, and it is my duty to keep my word.” “How long ago was it?” inquired Coucou Peter, his face lighting up with hope. “Five-and-thirty years ago,” replied Mathéus, ingenuously. “Five-and-thirty years!” cried Coucou Peter. “And do you imagine that Georges Müller is still there?” “No doubt. I observed his sign as I passed; nothing has been changed.” “Well, then, let us go to the Heron,” said the disciple, with a downcast air. “If there’s nothing to be gained there, there’s nothing to be lost! May the Great Demiourgos come to our assistance!” CHAPTER XXI.