In the inn at Beckstein he remarked, immediately upon his entrance,
an intelligent young gentleman dining, with a book in front of him.
He had his own place laid close to the reader, and with a proper
apology, broke ground by asking what he read.
'I am perusing,' answered the young gentleman, 'the last work of the
Herr Doctor Hohenstockwitz, cousin and librarian of your Prince here
in Grunewald - a man of great erudition and some lambencies of wit.'
'I am acquainted,' said Otto, 'with the Herr Doctor, though not yet
with his work.'
'Two privileges that I must envy you,' replied the young man
politely: 'an honour in hand, a pleasure in the bush.'
'The Herr Doctor is a man much respected, I believe, for his
attainments?' asked the Prince.
'He is, sir, a remarkable instance of the force of intellect,'
replied the reader. 'Who of our young men know anything of his
cousin, all reigning Prince although he be? Who but has heard of
Doctor Gotthold? But intellectual merit, alone of all distinctions,
has its base in nature.'
'I have the gratification of addressing a student - perhaps an
author?' Otto suggested.
The young man somewhat flushed. 'I have some claim to both
distinctions, sir, as you suppose,' said he; 'there is my card. I
am the licentiate Roederer, author of several works on the theory
and practice of politics.'
'You immensely interest me,' said the Prince; 'the more so as I
gather that here in Grunewald we are on the brink of revolution.
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