And yet I have heard of you, Colonel, as a duellist," said Gotthold.

"A different thing, sir," replied the soldier. "Professional etiquette.
And I trust without unchristian feeling."

Presently after the Colonel fell into a deep sleep; and his companions
looked upon each other, smiling.

"An odd fish," said Gotthold.

"And a strange guardian," said the Prince. "Yet what he said was true."

"Rightly looked upon," mused Gotthold, "it is ourselves that we cannot
forgive, when we refuse forgiveness to our friend. Some strand of our
own misdoing is involved in every quarrel."

"Are there not offences that disgrace the pardoner?" asked Otto. "Are
there not bounds of self-respect?"

"Otto," said Gotthold, "does any man respect himself? To this poor waif
of a soldier of fortune we may seem respectable gentlemen; but to
ourselves, what are we unless a pasteboard portico and a deliquium of
deadly weaknesses within?"

"I? yes," said Otto; "but you, Gotthold--you, with your interminable
industry, your keen mind, your books--serving mankind, scorning
pleasures and temptations! You do not know how I envy you."

"Otto," said the Doctor, "in one word, and a bitter one to say: I am a
secret tippler. Yes, I drink too much. The habit has robbed these very
books, to which you praise my devotion, of the merits that they should
have had. It has spoiled my temper. When I spoke to you the other day,
how much of my warmth was in the cause of virtue? how much was the fever
of last night's wine? Ay, as my poor fellow-sot there said, and as I
vaingloriously denied, we are all miserable sinners, put here for a
moment, knowing the good, choosing the evil, standing naked and ashamed
in the eye of God."

"Is it so?" said Otto. "Why, then, what are we? Are the very best----"

"There is no best in man," said Gotthold. "I am not better, it is likely
I am not worse, than you or that poor sleeper. I was a sham, and now you
know me: that is all."

"And yet it has not changed my love," returned Otto softly. "Our
misdeeds do not change us. Gotthold, fill your glass. Let us drink to
what is good in this bad business; let us drink to our old affection;
and, when we have done so, forgive your too just grounds of offence, and
drink with me to my wife, whom I have so misused, who has so misused me,
and whom I have left, I fear, I greatly fear, in danger. What matters it
how bad we are, if others can still love us, and we can still love
others?"

"