"Why should I? You are in love, and people in that condition lose all interest in rational matters."
The malicious intent of this speech escaped George, who was absorbed by the prospect of meeting Gabrielle.
"And you think this young girl, who, as I hear, has been brought up in a nunnery on the strictest conventual principles, will lend herself to be a go-between?" he asked.
"Ah, it will be a deuce of a work to bring her to it, no doubt," answered the young doctor, reflectively; "but never mind, I will make the attempt. If nothing else answers, I will allow myself to be converted in due form; then she will be so taken up with the idea of saving my soul and fitting me for heaven, that she will consent to anything. Be it made known to you, therefore, that my conversion is imminent."
George was forced to smile, in spite of his cares.
"Poor Max!" he said compassionately.
"I say, George," said Brunnow, quite gravely, "that is another of those preconceived notions which people adopt without knowing why. They fancy the process of conversion must necessarily be dismal and tedious; but, I assure you, it is a mistake. Under certain circumstances it may be agreeable enough. I tell you I positively feel a void when I don't go down to my patient's house, where the proselytising business is carried on."
"By your patient?"
"Nonsense! By Agnes Moser. Up to the present time she has considered me a hardened reprobate, and, of course, she abhors me in consequence; nevertheless we have got on together pretty fairly. The saintly mildness, for instance, which nearly drove me wild at first, has almost disappeared, thanks to my treatment. She can show quite a pretty little temper of her own now, and we frequently quarrel in the most edifying and delightful manner."
George turned a scrutinising gaze on his friend's face.