“Good day, Abraham, what are you doing here? Do you want to make Jews of us?”
“My name is not Abraham,” cried the illustrious philosopher. “I am Frantz Mathéus, doctor of medicine of the faculty of Strasbourg, corresponding member of——”
“Oh, I know you well,” interrupted the miller mockingly; “you call yourself Abraham Speizer, and not more than a year ago you sold me a blind horse, which I’ve never been able to get rid of. And, more than that, if I’m not mistaken, you must be the rabbi of Marmoutier!”
Hardly had he uttered these words than a great commotion rose amidst the crowd.
“Set upon the rabbi!—down with the rabbi!—on to the Jew!”
“My children, you are deceived!” cried the good man, “your animal instincts blind you; listen to me!”
But nobody would hear a word he had to say. The old women raised their broom-handles, the men their cudgels; some looked about for stones; and Mathéus, pale, overcome with emotion, stammered unintelligibly. Suddenly acting upon a luminous inspiration, he turned on his heels and fled into the kitchen.
The shouts and tumult then redoubled outside the house. Dame Catherina herself was terrified.
“Good heavens!” she cried, “what have you done, Doctor?”