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everlastingness--and then, inside of a little while, he begins to wobble;
no more Gibraltar there; no, sir, a mighty ordinary commonplace weakling
wobbling--around on stilts. That's Lord Berkeley to a dot, you can see
it look at that sheep! But,--why are you blushing like sunset! Dear
sir, have I unwittingly offended in some way?"
"Oh, no indeed, no indeed. Far from it. But it always makes me blush to
hear a man revile his own blood." He said to himself, "How strangely his
vagrant and unguided fancies have hit upon the truth. By accident, he
has described me. I am that contemptible thing. When I left England I
thought I knew myself; I thought I was a very Frederick the Great for
resolution and staying capacity; whereas in truth I am just a Wobbler,
simply a Wobbler. Well--after all, it is at least creditable to have
high ideals and give birth to lofty resolutions; I will allow myself that
comfort." Then he said, aloud, "Could this sheep, as you call him, breed
a great and self-sacrificing idea in his head, do you think? Could he
meditate such a thing, for instance, as the renunciation of the earldom
and its wealth and its glories, and voluntary retirement to the ranks of
the commonalty, there to rise by his own merit or remain forever poor and
obscure?"
"Could he? Why, look at him--look at this simpering self-righteous mug!
There is your answer. It's the very thing he would think of. And he
would start in to do it, too."
"And then?"
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