"No," said Hans. "Not yet. You see, he is still at work on it. That is why you see that dim light from his study window. Gorgonzola begins work at seven in the morning and retires at midnight. He is still at work on the novel, but, having written that first paragraph, we of course allude to him as the Author."
I laughed again. I had to, though I still had a great sympathy for Gorgonzola.
"What was his first paragraph?" I asked, very much interested; "or don't you know?"
"Yes, indeed, I know," replied Hans. "He has read it to me many times. Let's see—it is like this: 'It was a pleasant day in June. The buds were bursting on the trees, and all nature seemed alive, as Gretchen walked down the stairs and out into the garden.'"
"That's a good start," said I. "And tell me, Mr. Mayor, how far has he got in these twenty years?"
"He is still at work on his second paragraph," said the Mayor.
"Well," said I, "there's a good story for you—but, after all, Hans, it hasn't much of a moral."
"Oh yes, it has," retorted Hans. "It has a great moral. In fact you English-speaking people have the very moral well expressed."
"Indeed," said I, anxiously, "what is that?"
"First be sure you write, then go ahead," said Hans, simply.