The Professor allowed himself extraordinary liberties with strangers, the guests of the margravine. I met him crossing an inner court next day. He interrupted me in the middle of a commonplace remark, and to this effect:
'You are either a most fortunate or a most unfortunate young man!'
So profoundly penetrated with thoughtfulness was the tone of his voice that I could not take umbrage. The attempt to analyze his signification cost me an aching forehead, perhaps because I knew it too acutely.
CHAPTER XXVIII
OTTILIA
She was on horseback; I on foot, Schwartz for sole witness, and a wide space of rolling silent white country around us.
We had met in the fall of the winter noon by accident. 'You like my
Professor?' said Ottilia.
'I do: I respect him for his learning.'
'You forgive him his irony? It is not meant to be personal to you. England is the object; and partly, I may tell you, it springs from jealousy. You have such wealth! You embrace half the world: you are such a little island! All this is wonderful. The bitterness is, you are such a mindless people—I do but quote to explain my Professor's ideas. "Mindless," he says, "and arrogant, and neither in the material nor in the spiritual kingdom of noble or gracious stature, and ceasing to have a brave aspect." He calls you squat Goths. Can you bear to hear me?'
'Princess!'