From time to time he tried to open his eyes, but they always fell shut again.

The uncle, taking his hand, wanted to lead him away, but he fought against it.
"Uncle Philip, we have not sung the evening song yet," he said, clutching the piano.
"Mercy!" the uncle cried out disturbed.

"Is this going to start now?
No, no, Lippo, it is much too late to-night.

You can sing two songs to-morrow, then everything will be straightened out." "Then we shall have sung two songs to-morrow, but none to-day," Lippo began in a complaining voice, holding on to the piano and pulling his uncle towards him.
"Nothing can be done, we have to do it," Uncle Philip said with resignation, for he knew the obstinacy of his godson in regard to all customs.
"Kurt, you can tell me about the songs; please find the shortest in the song-book, or we shall have to sing till to-morrow morning.

Please spare us such a miserable scene.