parts of it, which I found quite beautiful. But in the end I was rather annoyed because I could not feel any interest in this loafer who is always favoured by good luck."
I made some remarks about the Aladdin and Faust types, and about the Danish and German national characteristics—a part of which I borrowed from something I had read years before in a magazine; but the other part consisted of ideas which came to me on the spur of the moment, and which could not have been of any value.
"What you have just said," she remarked, "is not very flattering to your countrymen."
I looked at her in surprise, for it had not occurred to me that my words could bear such a meaning.
"Well, to be perfectly candid, do you really find that Faust is so much to be admired? I mean, if one looks at him with the sober eye of a moralist? To give up one's soul to the devil, to seduce a young, innocent girl, to kill her brother in a very doubtful duel …"
"I know that, but all the same … You are a Protestant, aren't you?" she suddenly asked with a triumphant smile, as if she had thought of something very much to the point.
"Yes?"
"Then you know that human beings are not judged by their actions only."
"By what, then? I really do not consider Faust an orthodox saint, in spite of the fact that he translated the Bible."
"Perhaps you are right, but Faust is anyhow worth more than this Mr. Aladdin," she said, evidently pleased at having used this mocking "Mister" instead of an argu-
