And throwing his hat into the air, he leaped the ditch, climbed over the paling, and seized Bruno by the bridle.
There was a general hurrah, for all the good people present knew Mathéus.
“Come in, Doctor! Take a glass of wine, Doctor!—no, a glass of kirschwasser—this way, Doctor!”
One took him by the collar, another by the arm, a third by the tail of his coat; and they shouted, and the women laughed, till poor Frantz did not know which way to turn.
Bruno was led into the shade, and a feed of oats given him, and two minutes afterwards the illustrious philosopher found himself seated between Petrus Brentz the gamekeeper, and Tobie Müller, the landlord of the Dripping Pan. Before him danced Coucou Peter, now on one leg, now on the other, and playing the famous Hopser of Lutzelstein with a seductive energy that was truly amazing.
“Take my jug,” cried Tobie.
“Doctor, you’ll drink out of my glass, won’t you?” cried little Suzel. And her lips, parted with a soft smile, showed her little snow-white teeth.
“Yes, my dear,” stammered the good man, whose eyes sparkled with happiness; “yes, with pleasure.”
Some one clapped him on the shoulder.
“Have you breakfasted yet, Doctor?”