"Surely thou'rt mad," I gasped feebly as I sank down on his bench, "Hast been drinking?"—though I knew he had not.
"Yea," he shouted again even louder than before, "from the loving cup of the gods!"
"Be not so boisterous, thou blasphemer! Wouldst have the Brethren think thee drunk?"
"The Brethren are not about; I am not so wild I know not how to save thy gentle reputation, Vaterchen"—and in truth in his adventures he ever regarded me.
"Still it poorly becometh thee to act like a thoughtless boy," I remonstrated.
"Surely, Vaterchen," he laughed gayly, "if thou didst but know what it is to be in love thou couldst not scold me so!"
"Every man to his trade," I replied dryly, not trusting myself to look at him; "my trade is preaching and trying to behave myself. Thine appears to be loving," saying the latter as sarcastically as my dislike for sharp words and my love for him would allow.
But he only laughed the louder as he said, "'Tis a trade that never had to advertise for apprentices."
"Cease thy levity; canst not be sober-minded? If thou must make music we have hundreds of noble hymns in our books."
"They are not framed to my mood, but"—and now in truth he looked more serious and manlike, as I most admired him—"dost thou agree with our superintendent that marriage is a sinful state?"