rough-spoken, brave old Dr. Luther," said the young physician with the dark complexion and flashing black eyes.
"What did he do?" inquired Baruch.
"He once said: 'When I mount the pulpit I look at the human beings, but regard them as mere blocks standing before me, and speak out God's word.' In a certain sense—in which sense, however, he did not mean it—I agree with him entirely. You must study the man; he has a certain proportion of faith which is wanting in me, but he was thoroughly honest. I am much interested in him."
"I am glad you too are a theologian."
"I lead a sort of amphibious life between theology and medicine."
"Yes, Herr von Spinoza," said Oldenburg joining in the conversation. "Meyer has medicine for a wife, and theology for a mistress. You can dispute with him; he knows the Bible by heart." The father accompanied Oldenburg and Meyer to the door on their departure, and was not displeased that the passers-by should see who had visited him. His face was still bright when he returned to his son, and he said:
"Herr Oldenburg thinks very highly of you. I know the difference well enough between mere patronage and real sincerity. You may congratulate yourself on having such a gallant, upright man for a friend,"