"Might it be that you are also considering my prior convictions in this?" I asked. "This, I would accept!"
"Nonsense! I don't care about that. Hundreds of thousands are walking about in freedom, who ought to be in prison! No, that's not it. I have entirely different reasons. You won't get my daughter!"
He shouted these words very loudly.
"Oho!" I answered.
"Oho? There is no oho! I'm telling you again, you won't get my daughter!"
He pounded his walking stick on the floor with every one of these words, to increase their effect. I was very tempted to place my hand on his shoulder and to tell him laughingly: "Well, so keep her!" But my father's legacy within me rebelled against this, the tough, unreflected rage, which never does the right thing. I now also became enraged:
"If you won't give her to me, then I'll take her!"
"Just try it!"
"I won't just try it, but I will do it, actually do it!"
Then, he laughed.