Reflecting that the greatest philosopher of modern times, the successor of Pythagoras, of Philolaus, and all the sages of India and Egypt, the illustrious Frantz Mathéus of Graufthal, instead of being received by the population with enthusiasm, of being borne in triumph over roads strewn with palm, had run the risk of having to lie in the street and of dying of hunger, he became deeply melancholy, and while he ate, bitterly recapitulated in his mind the events of his journey; the beating he had received at Oberbronn, Jacob Fischer’s attempt to seize Bruno, the threat of the Procureur of Saverne, and the proposition of Coucou Peter to go and sing in the beerhouses. This last circumstance above all wounded him to the depths of his soul, and every now and then large tears filled his eyes; for he saw himself, like Belisarius, holding out his hand for charity at a street-corner. Coucou Peter at first paid no attention to his distressed aspect; but towards the end of the meal he perceived it, and cried, as he set down his glass— “What the deuce are you thinking of, Maître Mathéus? I never saw you looking like this before!” “I am thinking,” replied the good man, “that human kind is unworthy to know the sublime truths of anthropo-zoology. The peoples appear to me to be struck with a deplorable—and I must say wilful—blindness; for if they are blind, it is because they choose to be so. In vain have we attempted to make them listen to the voice of justice. In vain have we tried by eloquence and persuasion to soften their hearts. In vain have we sacrificed our dearest affections, quitted the roof of our fathers, our friends, our——” He was unable to finish; his heart, swelled more and more by the enumeration of these calamities, ended by stifling his voice; and, bowing his head upon the table, he burst into tears. At that moment Kasper Müller, having shut up the brewery, for it was eleven o’clock, entered the room with a bottle of old wolxheim in each hand. He was struck by the sight of the Doctor’s distress. “Good heavens!” he said, stopping at the threshold, “what has happened? Here I was coming to clink glasses with an old friend of my father, and I find everybody down in the mouth!” Coucou Peter gave up his seat to him, and told him the state of affairs. “Is that all?” cried Kasper Müller. “Have you reached your age, my dear monsieur, without having learned what men are? Why, if I were to weep at all the rascals to whom I have rendered services, and who have repaid me with ingratitude, it would take me six months to do it! Come, come, cheer up! What the deuce! You are in the midst of good and trustworthy friends. Come, drink a cup of this old wolxheim—it will raise your spirits.”