"And your son, seeing you smoke, will do it too."
"Of course, my son too...."
"Well then, give it up!"
"I would, only it's so dull without it.... It's chiefly from dulness. When one feels dull, one has a smoke. That's where the mischief lies.... It's dull! At times it's so dull ... so dull ... so dull!" drawled he.
"The best remedy for that is to think of one's soul."
He threw a glance at me, and at once the expression of his face quite changed: instead of his former kindly, humorous, lively and talkative expression, he became attentive and serious.
"'Think of the soul ... of the soul,' you say?" he asked, gazing questioningly into my eyes.
"Yes! When you think of the soul, you give up all foolish things."
His face lit up affectionately.