“Yes, you do.... You must look at me. I like that.... You have such earnest, faithful eyes. Oh, I know now what to compare those poems with!”
“Well, with what?”
“With your whistling. That is also so—so—well, you know what I mean.... Do you still whistle sometimes?”
“Very seldom.”
“And you have not learned to play the flute either, I suppose?”
“No.”
“Oh, fie! If you love me, you will learn it.... I will give you a beautiful flute next time.”
“I have nothing to give you in return.”
“Oh yes—you shall give me all the songs which you play. And when your heart is very sad ... well, only read that book; everything is in there.”
Paul looked at it from all sides. “What a wonderful book it must be!” he thought.