Coucou Peter, on his side, slackened Bruno’s pace, and felt his own ribs to make sure they were still intact. When he had thoroughly convinced himself that all was in its place, he turned towards the village, which was still to be seen through the trees, and extending his hands with an imploring air, cried—
“Peasants of Oberbronn, the prophet Coucou Peter curses you!”
“No, no—do not curse them,” murmured the good doctor, in a tone of supplication; “do not curse them. Alas! the unfortunates know not what they do.”
“So much the worse for them,” replied the fiddler, out of temper. “I curse them to the third and fourth generation! Ah, you beggar, Tapihans! you beggar, Spengler! I curse you both! I despise you like the dust of my shoes!”
This said, he turned in the saddle and rode on.
Bruno was slowly following the path to Eschenbach. The sun heated the sandy ground; thousands of insects danced about the furze-bushes, and their vague buzzing was the only sound that met the ear. This immense calm of nature insensibly affected Mathéus; he gently bowed his head, covered his face, and burst into tears.
“What’s the matter with you, Maître Frantz?” cried Coucou Peter.
“Nothing, my friend,” replied the good man, in a stifled voice. “I am thinking of those unhappy people who have persecuted us; I am thinking of the numberless transformations they still have to endure before reaching moral perfection; and I pity them for having such bad hearts. I, who would have done so much for them!—who sought to enlighten them on their future destinies! I, who love them still with all the strength of my soul! They strike me, cover me with abuse, and misunderstand the purity of my intentions. You cannot imagine how much this pains me. Let me weep in silence; these are gentle tears, and prove to me my own goodness. Oh, Mathéus! Mathéus! man of virtue!” he cried, “weep—weep for the errors of your species; but murmur not against eternal justice! That alone makes your greatness and strength. In turn, onion, tulip, snail, and hare—finally man. You have not always been a philosopher; it has needed many ages to overcome your animal instincts. Be indulgent, therefore, and think that, if inferior beings do you harm, it is because they are not worthy to comprehend you.”
“That’s all very fine! We are knocked about, and you take pity on those fellows!” cried Coucou Peter. “The devil’s in it if we haven’t enough to be sorry for on our own account!”