windows in succession, a flush of morning sun; and Otto looked so
gay, and walked so airily, he was so well dressed and brushed and
frizzled, so point-device, and of such a sovereign elegance, that
the heart of his cousin the recluse was rather moved against him.

'Good-morning, Gotthold,' said Otto, dropping in a chair.

'Good-morning, Otto,' returned the librarian. 'You are an early
bird. Is this an accident, or do you begin reforming?'

'It is about time, I fancy,' answered the Prince.

'I cannot imagine,' said the Doctor. 'I am too sceptical to be an
ethical adviser; and as for good resolutions, I believed in them
when I was young. They are the colours of hope's rainbow.'

'If you come to think of it,' said Otto, 'I am not a popular
sovereign.' And with a look he changed his statement to a question.

'Popular? Well, there I would distinguish,' answered Gotthold,
leaning back and joining the tips of his fingers. 'There are
various kinds of popularity; the bookish, which is perfectly
impersonal, as unreal as the nightmare; the politician's, a mixed
variety; and yours, which is the most personal of all. Women take
to you; footmen adore you; it is as natural to like you as to pat a
dog; and were you a saw-miller you would be the most popular citizen
in Grunewald. As a prince - well, you are in the wrong trade. It
is perhaps philosophical to recognise it as you do.'

'Perhaps philosophical?' repeated Otto.