"Don't be so unkind. Have a little charity, and let the poor man enjoy himself without harming God or his neighbor."
"As far as I am concerned he may sing till doomsday. But I notice, lassie, that for some time you have been becoming a great preacher. Are you thinking of entering into competition with the curé of the parish?"
"What I am anxious for is that you shouldn't be a backbiter. If you love me as you say you do, my good advice ought not to make you vexed."
"It doesn't make me vexed, loveliest; quite the contrary. I always listen to it with pleasure and follow it—when I can. You surely are acquainted with my ways, and know that I can't help making fun. However, you'll have time enough to preach to me all you want, won't you? Not only time enough but space enough. You can go on giving me sermons from Nieva to Madrid, then from Madrid to Paris, and from Paris to Milan, and from Milan to Venice, and thence to Rome and Naples, and back by Geneva, Brussels, Paris, and Madrid, home again. With what delight I shall travel through all these foreign countries listening to a preacher so devoted! How do you like the itinerary of our journey?"
"Well enough."
"Well enough! That isn't saying anything. One would think the subject didn't interest you as much as it did me. I won't fix it definitely till you have made such changes as you like in it, or vary it entirely, if it seem good to you. I am just as much interested in going to Berlin or London as to Paris and Rome. You can imagine how much difference it makes to me, if I go with you, which way we travel!"
"Whatever you decide upon will be well."
"Let us have it decided. Do you like the plan I propose? Yes or no?"
"I have told you yes already."
"But, lassie, what is the matter with you? You have scarcely allowed yourself to smile this whole evening, and you haven't said a word more than was strictly necessary. What is the reason of such solemnity? Are you put out with me?"