“Please, Father Bruno, what is love?”
“Dost thou want telling?” inquired Bruno with evident amusement.
“Please, we all want telling, because we can’t agree.”
Bruno very rarely laughed, but he did now.
“Then, if you cannot agree, you certainly do need it. I should rather like to hear the various opinions.”
“Oh! Eva says—” began the child eagerly; but Bruno’s hand, laid gently on her head, stopped her.
“Wait, my child. Let each speak for herself.”
There was silence for a moment, for no one liked to begin—except Marie, whom decorum alone kept silent.
“What didst thou say, Eva?”
“I believe I said, good Father, that I cared not for the love of any that did not hold me first and best. Nor do I.”