At first Nigel passed the priest, who was to all appearance a Jesuit, with a bow. The priest desisted from telling his beads and bowed also. In their saunter they bowed again, and the priest very gently expressed a hope that Nigel was "enjoying the beauty of the morning."
"Father," said Nigel, "it is indeed a fair morning, but good news makes the worst of mornings joyous!"
"Ah, youth! Ah, youth, the beautiful!" said the Father. "Youth is the season when one has good news! In after years the news never seems wholly good. There is always some little drawback."
Nigel inclined his head deferentially. Middle-aged men always spoke in this way. They were jealous of youth. But being in great spirits he thought to humour the priest, and said—
"There speaks a wide experience and a wide knowledge!"
"Surely," said the priest, "you are of the Scottish nation, and a soldier! Am I right, sir?"
"What makes you think so?" said Nigel, much amused.
"In the first place, the Scottish gentlemen are amongst the most courteous of men, and pronounce German very well; and as to the second, one could not miss that you were a soldier by your bearing."
There being at least two compliments wrapped up along with a commonplace, Nigel took another look at the priest and saw that the priest was a man of benign countenance, very courtly, and that his face was lined with many fine lines about the brow and eyes, which themselves were very penetrating. Nigel reflected on the Latin poet who feared Greeks and people bringing gifts. So he asked—
"Is there a college of your order in Vienna?"