His words were harsh, dry and severe:
'Not at home?
So he's gone to a cafe, has he?
So I've got to wait, have I?
Very well, I'll wait till the morning.
He's got money for a cafe, but not to pay his debts.
Calls himself a priest!
Lousy rat!'
He spat in the kitchen.
'Sir, don't spit here!' said Svejk, looking at the stranger with interest.
'I shall spit once more, as you see, like this,' said the severe gentleman obstinately, spitting on the floor a second time.
'He should be ashamed.
An army chaplain.
What a disgrace!'
'If you've had any education,' Svejk reminded him, 'then you should have cured yourself of spitting in someone else's house.
Or do you think that when there's a world war on, you can do what you please?
You've got to behave decently and not like a hooligan.
You've got to act politely, talk decently and not carry on like a damned scoundrel, you bloody fool of a civilian, you!'
The stern gentleman got up from his chair, began to shake with fury and shouted:
'You dare tell me I'm not a decent man?
Then what am I, tell me .. .'
'You're a dirty pig,' answered Svejk, looking him straight in the eye.
'You spit on the floor as though you were in a tram, a train or a public place.
I've always wondered why there arc notices hanging everywhere that spitting is prohibited, and now I see it's all because of you.
They must know you very well everywhere.'
The stern man began to change colour and tried to answer with a torrent of oaths directed at Svejk and the chaplain.
'Have you finished your speechifying?' Svejk asked composedly (when the gentleman had delivered himself of his last:
'You're both scoundrels. Like master like dog'), 'or would you like to say something more before you fly down the stairs ? ' As the stern gentleman had exhausted himself to such an extent that no valuable and effective oath came to his mind, he fell silent, and Svejk took it as a sign that there was no point in waiting for anything further.
And so he opened the door, placed the stern gentleman at it with his face towards the corridor and gave him a kick worthy of the shoot of the best player in an international football championship team.
And behind the stern gentleman Svejk's voice carried all the way down the steps:
'Next time when you visit decent people, see you behave decently.'
The stern gentleman walked for a long time up and down underneath the windows and waited for the chaplain.
Svejk opened the window and watched him.
At last the chaplain came back.
He took the stern gentleman into his room and sat him down on a chair opposite him.
Svejk silently brought in a spittoon and placed it in front of the guest.
'What are you doing, Svejk?'
'Humbly report, sir, there's already been some unpleasantness here with this gentleman concerning spitting on the floor.'
'Leave us alone together, Svejk.
We have business to transact.'
Svejk saluted.
'Humbly report, sir, I'm leaving you.'
He went into the kitchen and in the next room a very interesting conversation took place.
'You've come for the money for that bill of exchange, if I am not mistaken?' the chaplain asked his guest.
'Yes, and I hope .. .'
The chaplain sighed.
'A man is often brought into a situation where hope is the only thing left.
How beautiful is that little word "hope", from that three-leafed clover, which exalts man above the chaos of life: faith, hope, charity.'
'I hope, chaplain, that the sum .. .'
'Of course, worthy sir,' the chaplain interrupted him.