"Quite right. That is what I do mean. Failing that, I directed her to Heaven. Don't laugh in such a godless fashion, Fritzchen. It is my vocation. And what is Heaven there for, unless it is to help us on our way through this vale of tears?"
"But it is not there to turn our brains."
The old man frowned in deep thought, and muttered, "For that purpose it is not there I agree."
There was a silence. Leo, who was no longer in the mood for jesting, called Christian, and ordered a wine that was drinkable.
"God reward you, Fritzchen," said the pastor. "Now, perhaps, a few sensible ideas will dawn in my addled brain."
Christian, eager to repair his master's sins against the clergy, brought up a fiery "Ranenthaler" brand, that hadn't seen the sun for many a long year.
Brenckenberg slowly damped his lips. His little swollen eyes became mere slits, while with a shudder of delight he emptied the glass. Then once more he was gloomy and silent.
"Aren't you satisfied yet?" Leo asked.
"It's a sin and a shame," he answered, "that one should enjoy one's self while talking of such terrible things. But it is the old Adam in us, Fritzchen--the old Adam."
"You are in a hurry to repent," said Leo. "Let your lips dry first, before you curse with them."