“The Being of Beings has decided; His will be done!”
These were his only words of regret; for, with the thought that he should return to Graufthal, a joy as great as it was complete descended to the depths of his soul—a joy which no words can describe. As much ardour as he had felt in quitting his village, he now felt to return to it. The brewer’s wife joined with Kasper Müller in representing to him that he stood in need of one or two days’ rest; but that was a thing impossible.
“I must go,” he said, walking about the room; “I must go. Do not try to detain me, my dear lady; I should be distressed to refuse you anything. The destinies are accomplished! Coucou Peter, go and saddle Bruno; go, Coucou Peter, the sooner you do it the better. Ah, my dear friend, if you knew what a load you have taken from my breast! For the last two days I have hardly breathed; every step that took me farther from Graufthal has overwhelmed me with sadness. But I am going back!—thank Heaven, I am going back to it!”
Maître Kasper, seeing him so decided, attempted no further to dissuade him. He went out with Coucou Peter, and helped him to saddle the horse. Maître Frantz had followed and moved round them, unable to conceal his impatience. At length, seeing that all was ready, the good man threw his arms warmly about Maître Kasper’s neck, crying—
“O noble heart! worthy son of Georges Müller! I shall never forget the services you have rendered me. May the Being of Beings shed His blessings on you and on your family!”
He also embraced Dame Catherine, then Coucou Peter, who sobbed. At last he was setting foot in the stirrup, with singular briskness, when he felt the tail of his coat pulled, and at the same time Coucou Peter slipped something into his pocket.
“What are you doing, my friend?” asked Maître Frantz.
“Nothing, Doctor, nothing; only some earnest-money my new master has given me. Now that you are no longer a prophet you’ll want money. But remember that your road is through Brumath, Wasselonne, and Saverne; you must stop at the Corne d’Abondance; and you must not let yourself be cheated by the landlords, Doctor—you are too good.”
During this discourse Mathéus observed his disciple with an air of inexpressible tenderness.
“Oh, Coucou Peter—Coucou Peter!” he cried, “what a man you would be if the unhappy instincts of the flesh had not such an empire over you! What goodness of heart! What natural simplicity! What a spirit of justice! You would be perfect!”