“Why not give it up?”
“How can one give it up when one’s accustomed to it?”
“I also used to smoke, but have given it up … and I feel so well—so free!”
“Well of course … but it’s dull without it.”
“Give it up, and the dullness will go! Smoking is no good, you know!”
“No good at all.”
“If it’s no good, you should not do it. Seeing you smoke, others will do the same … especially the young folk. They’ll say, ‘If the old folk smoke, God himself bids us do it!’ ”
“That’s true enough.”
“And your son, seeing you smoke, will do it too.”
“Of course, my son too. …”
“Well then, give it up!”
“I would, only it’s so dull without it. … It’s chiefly from dullness. When one feels dull, one has a smoke. That’s where the mischief lies. … It’s dull! At times it’s so dull … so dull … so dull!” drawled he.
“The best remedy for that is to think of one’s soul.”
He threw a glance at me, and at once the expression of his face quite changed: instead of his former kindly, humorous, lively and talkative expression, he became attentive and serious.
“ ‘Think of the soul … of the soul,’ you say?” he asked, gazing questioningly into my eyes.
“Yes! When you think of the soul, you give up all foolish things.”