She did not want to accept anything but a simple rose-coloured ribbon, but he forced her to take a superb shawl.
“Oh, Monsieur Coucou Peter,” she said, “let me have the ribbon.”
“Keep both the ribbon and the shawl, Dame Thérèse! Keep them for love of me,” he cried in a low tone; “if you only knew how much pleasure it gives me!”
He bought also a sugar dog for the child, then some gilt filberts, then a little drum—and indeed did not leave off buying till his ten francs were spent to the last centime. He then appeared in his glory; and when Hans Aden rejoined them, he was well pleased to see that Coucou Peter had shown such attention to his wife.
As for the philosopher, the sight of this great assemblage strangely exalted him; he wished to begin to preach, and every moment exclaimed—
“Coucou Peter, I think it is time to preach. Look at this crowd—what a magnificent occasion for announcing the doctrine!”
“Don’t think of it, Maître Frantz—don’t think of it for a moment! Here’s the gendarme going by—he’d have you in his grip at once; none but quacks have the right of preaching in the fair.”
In this way they made the circuit of the market-place three times. Dame Thérèse purchased all she needed for her housekeeping: a scrubbing-brush, some tin ladles, a slice, and other articles of a like kind; Hans Aden bought a scythe that gave a clear ringing sound, some wooden shoes, and a currycomb.
Towards ten o’clock Schimel’s panniers were full of things; the crowd became more and more numerous, and raised clouds of dust; in the distance was heard the whirling waltz.