“I live so little in what is called ‘the world’ that I’m afraid I’m very ready to take drollery for a serious expression of opinion.”
He stroked Bous-Bous’s white back, and added, with a simple geniality that seemed to spring rather from a desire to be kind than from any temperamental source:
“But I hope I shall always be able to enjoy innocent fun.”
As he spoke his eyes rested on Androvsky’s face, and suddenly he looked grave and put Bous-Bous gently down on the floor.
“I’m afraid I must be going,” he said.
“Already?” said his host.
“I dare not allow myself too much idleness. If once I began to be idle in this climate I should become like an Arab and do nothing all day but sit in the sun.”
“As I do. Father, we meet very seldom, but whenever we do I feel myself a cumberer of the earth.”
Domini had never before heard him speak with such humbleness. The priest flushed like a boy.
“We each serve in our own way,” he said quickly. “The Arab who sits all day in the sun may be heard as a song of praise where He is.”