'Yes, perhaps. I would not be dogmatic,' answered Gotthold.

'Perhaps philosophical, and certainly not virtuous,' Otto resumed.

'Not of a Roman virtue,' chuckled the recluse.

Otto drew his chair nearer to the table, leaned upon it with his
elbow, and looked his cousin squarely in the face. 'In short,' he
asked, 'not manly?'

'Well,' Gotthold hesitated, 'not manly, if you will.' And then,
with a laugh, 'I did not know that you gave yourself out to be
manly,' he added. 'It was one of the points that I inclined to like
about you; inclined, I believe, to admire. The names of virtues
exercise a charm on most of us; we must lay claim to all of them,
however incompatible; we must all be both daring and prudent; we
must all vaunt our pride and go to the stake for our humility. Not
so you. Without compromise you were yourself: a pretty sight. I
have always said it: none so void of all pretence as Otto.'

'Pretence and effort both!' cried Otto. 'A dead dog in a canal is
more alive. And the question, Gotthold, the question that I have to
face is this: Can I not, with effort and self-denial, can I not
become a tolerable sovereign?'

'Never,' replied Gotthold. 'Dismiss the notion. And besides, dear
child, you would not try.'

'Nay, Gotthold, I am not to be put by,' said Otto. 'If I am