“And one must have recourse to the physician in both instances.”
“I do not believe in physicians, O Reverend.”
“Not even the physician of the soul?”
“You said it, O Reverend.”
The mother of Khalid serves the coffee, and whispers to her son a word. Whereupon Khalid rises and sits on the divan near the Padre.
“But one must follow the religion of one’s father,” the Jesuit resumes.
“When one’s father has a religion, yes; but when he curses the religion of his son for not being ferociously religious like himself—”
“But a father must counsel and guide his children.”
“Let the mother do that. Hers is the purest and most disinterested spirit of the two.”
“Then, why not obey your mother, and—”
Khalid suppresses his anger.
“My mother and I can get along without the interference of our neighbours.”
“Yes, truly. But you will find great solace in going to Church and ceasing your doubts.”
Khalid rises indignant.
“I only doubt the Pharisees, O Reverend, and their Church I would destroy today if I could.”
“My child—”