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A fleeting conversation with an acquaintance (the baby in the carrier bag, we are on the way home from an errand) elicits great indignation. But it is not a protest directed at our disrupted intimacy, which we carelessly interrupted, it is not this evident egoism, which it seems so tempting to interpret (and which after all is just a misrepresentation), nor is it impatience on our baby’s part, or a demand, or an expression of discontent. His displeasure is about the by the way of our conversation, the peculiar thoughtlessness of (friendly, nice) words casually dropped and their semiserious irresolution. When we come to understand this (much later), we become quiet and feel once more (again) the strictness of our baby (disciples and servants, we whisper inaudibly, let us be that, disciples and servants).