At that moment Claude Wachtmann raised himself upon the point of his toes, and moved his big nose from right to left to assure himself that each one was doing his duty. He caught sight of Jacques Burrus’s little incorrigible, who, having climbed upon the barn-ladder, was holding old Mathéus’ grey cat by the tail and making the poor brute squall dolefully. He made a sign with his finger to the young rascal, who, recollecting his instructions, set to crying with all his might.
Claude Wachtmann then enjoyed his triumph, for never had the like been heard before.
The face of Frantz Mathéus expressed consternation; however, when he heard Cineas speak to the great Antiochus, an imperceptible smile spread over his lips; he moved forward a step, so as to bring the head of Bruno outside of the circle.
Jean-Claude raised his hand, and everybody became silent as if by enchantment.
“Illustrious Doctor Mathéus,” he continued, “in like manner with the inhabitants of Babylon——”
But at the same instant Frantz Mathéus, without waiting for the end, drove both spurs into Bruno, who bounded off like a storm, through hedges, over gardens, crops, bushes; crushing the cabbages of one, the turnips of another, the barley of this one, the oats of that—in short, as if the deuce were in him.
The cries of the crowd pursued him; but the Doctor did not even turn his head, and was soon across the large communal meadow.
Jean-Claude’s face was as lank and yellow as a wax candle. He raised his long arms and cried—
“I have not finished! I have not yet read the passage of Nebuchadnezzar changed into an ox with the plumes of an eagle for his pride! Listen, Jacques—Herbert—Christian!”