"It must be put aside," I declared.
"Your part is of course for you to decide; but mine is for me. You cannot take my share from me."
"I shall prevail with you. I must. You are going to take your rightful position as your father's heir. You know what is to happen here when the Patriots gain their end. You know what will be expected of you then; and you have to think, not of yourself, not of any mere personal desire, any smaller end, but of your country."
"'Mere personal desire,'" he repeated. "Is that how you read it?"
"It is what your countrymen would call it—your countrymen, who will look to you to do your duty. They must not look in vain."
He made no reply but sat smoking, his brow gathered in deep furrows of thought.
"There are two Count Karls," I continued. "The one who years ago lived a life which made men proud of him, and filled them with trust and confidence in his power and vigour. The real Karl; the man who at the call of patriotism and the counsel of a friend, was even strong enough to let himself be condemned in the eyes of the girl he cared for as cowardly, selfish, and false. That was the real Karl. The other was but an ignoble man; a purposeless parody of the real and true; and he, I thank God, exists no longer. But the noble Karl has to face again to-day the same hard problem he solved so roughly and crudely years ago. With this difference however—the girl knows all now and will help him."
The trouble in his face deepened and he shook his head slowly. "No, no. I cannot."
"Yes, you must. We must, Karl. We don't make our lives; we do but live them."
"I cannot," he repeated, heaving a great sigh.