Discipula. Ah, my master, will you tell me that I can’t catch fish? Poor little fish! Oh, but he’s a small one: take him off, master, and put him into the hold. I hunt for nobler game.
Piscator. Not a good thought, not a good thought for an angler. Hunt for nobler game, if you like; but a fisherwoman must not despise the smallest that comes to her net. Every thing counts.
Discipula. Despise? No; oh no! I would like to catch fifty just such; that is, if there are no larger ones to angle for.
Piscator. Well, your bait is set again. Cast out as before, and I wish you better luck.
Discipula. Now I am going to catch a large one—a foot long. But, Mr. Piscator, why do you not use your line?
Piscator. I will not interfere with your sport; and beside, I may want to give you advice how to manage yours. It is not, in general, a good plan to let the fish see you when you are angling; they are apt to be frightened away. However, in this case, I shall say nothing against it; because if they have an eye for beauty, as is commonly believed, your showing yourself should have a contrary effect. In truth, the influence of beauty is much to be marvelled at. I remember myself when I was young, and had not yet learned their vanity, how easy I was to be led away and bewitched by a fair face and a sparkling eye. That was some time ago; you draw your fly too fast; it was some years ago; and yet I am fain to confess, that even now, in nothing do I take more pleasure, than in looking on a ruddy cheek, a polished brow, the long lashes of a soft blue eye, and upon heavy folds of auburn hair; and it is for this reason that I have placed you opposite to me now.
Discipula. Why, Mr. Piscator! Did you mean that for a compliment?
Piscator. Certainly no. I seldom speak but what I think, for flattery I like neither to give nor receive. Ah, yes; there are witches in the world yet. And their witchcraft consists not in magic filters, and potent herbs gathered at midnight under the full moon; far more subtle and powerful is it. Like the poisons of eastern countries, it is communicated by a touch, by a look, by the breath of a word. This is the witchcraft that they use; therewith lure they men to commit folly. It would seem to be their chief delight, their main occupation. But I am willing to believe that you are not so evil-minded; and that when you bewitch men, it is not because you love to do it, but that it is altogether involuntary.
Discipula. Oh, of course, altogether involuntary. If I had my way, I never would cause a single flutter in any body’s breast—not I. But you see how it is, I can’t help it, and therefore it is not my fault. These fish do not bite well. There is one, he will weigh four pounds, that has been playing round and round the hook, but won’t touch it. Haven’t you got some kind of sweet smelling oil or perfume to scent the bait with?
Piscator. I have some lavender-leaves, and if you will draw up the line, I will rub the fly over with them, for fish love the smell of lavender. Try him with that. Ah, I see him—a respectable fish. He is coming up toward the hook; I think he will take it.