Leo, in the name of all his sins, did the same, and refilled the glasses.
"Now, Fritzchen," the old man began, letting his bulldog glance, half severe, half servile, rest on his squire, "we are not Catholics, and I am not your father confessor. I simply came here to talk over with you the autumn conference, and, with the Lord's permission, to drink a glass of good wine in your company. Instead, you choose to set before me this trash, and to begin talking of that cursed business, which has already caused me enough headaches."
"You began it, old man."
"Yes, in the pulpit. That is my damned duty.... And if you rascals will carry on such games, then----"
"You must rail and swear...."
"You've had many a clout from me, Fritzchen...."
"And I have kissed the hand that held the rod," he interposed, laughing.
"I thought I had done enough; but if I had known that of you ... ah! ah!"
"You would like to make it good?" mocked Leo.
"If possible ... with pleasure."