“It is certain that for some months after I entered the army, my resolutions for good were well maintained, and I thought that my affections for Louise were augmented by absence. But I fell into the habits of those with whom I associated, and I soon found that they shared the opinions which my earlier companions professed; and I confess to you that my old skepticism returned, and though my sufferings here have certainly prevented me from the indulgence of dissipation into which I had fallen, yet I do not find that my religious belief has returned with my change of conduct.”
“Probably not, your change of conduct, as you call it, is only the necessity of your position, and you have perhaps sinned as heartily here, within sight of death, as when you were in the full flush of health.”
“And, by the way, Mr. Klemm, that is the unkindest remark you have made to me yet, and smacking the least of German accent of any sentence you have uttered. How much your voice resembles Louise’s!”
“Do I resemble her much in other respects?”
“You are not as tall, and you are darker; beside, your shock of hair resembles her splendid head about as much as your guttural German does her pure French.”
“Adolph,” said Klemm, in accents far more Germanic than those recently used, “would you seek to renew your relations with Louise if you were now permitted to return?”
“The only weakness which I ever knew in Louise was her love for me, and that, I have occasion to know, would not allow her to marry me with my present vices.”
“Could you not conform to the customs of her family without a change of opinion?”
“Would you advise me to do it?”
“Would you do it?”