The Illustrious Dr. Mathéus by Erckmann-Chatrian

The nearer Frantz Mathéus approached the gipsies, the more he was struck by their joyous and truly philosophical appearance. It was easy to be seen that they cared little for the opinion of the world, and that they drew all their satisfaction from themselves. Some had clothes too large, others clothes much too small; there were many more rents than whole pieces in their breeches, but that did not prevent them extending their legs with a certain nobility of action, or of looking you in the face as if they had been covered with magnificent embroideries. Almost all the women had children upon their backs in a kind of bag, which they carried slung over their shoulders. They went quietly about their business; some put wood on the fire, others lit their pipes with a hot coal; others, again, emptied their pockets, filled with crusts of bread, carrots, and turnips, into the cauldron. It was exquisitely picturesque to see this halt in the midst of the woods. The blue smoke rolled in masses through the valley, and in the distance the frogs, enjoying themselves amid the duckweed, were commencing their melancholy concert.

"Eat and drink, worthy people! " cried Mathéus, taking off his broad-brimmed felt and saluting them; "all the fruits of the earth are made for man. Ah! how I love to see Heaven's creatures prosper and spread before the face of the Great Demiourgos! How I love to see them grow in strength, in wisdom, and in beauty!"