it unless placed before the Julien, where in the
present case its suggestion was not wholly unappropriate. As he was
when I first met him, his nature seemed to be made up of exquisite
half-tints, in which the most antagonistic tastes might find something
to admire. It presented no sharp angles to wound your self-esteem or
your prejudices. Morally, intellectually, and physically, he was as
smooth as velvet, and as agreeable to the touch. He never disagreed
with you, whatever heterodox sentiments you might give vent to, and
still no one could ever catch him in any positive inconsistency or
self-contradiction. The extreme liberal who was on terms of intimacy
with the nineteenth century, and passionately hostile to all temporal
and spiritual rulers, put him down as a rising man, who might be
confidently counted on when he should have shed his down and assume I
his permanent colors; and the prosperous conservative who had access
to the private ear of the government lauded his good sense and his
moderate opinions, and resolved to press his name at the first vacancy
that might occur in the diplomatic service. In fact, every one parted
from him with the conviction that at heart he shared his sentiments;
even though for prudential reasons he did not choose to express
himself with emphasis.

The inference, I am afraid, from all this, is that Dannevig was a
hypocrite; but if I have conveyed that impression to any one, I
certainly have done my friend injustice. I am not aware that he ever
consciously suspended his convictions for the sake of pleasing; but
convictions require a comparative depth of soil in order to thrive,
and Dannevig's mind was remarkable for territorial expanse rather than
for depth. Of course, he did with astonishing ease assume the color of
the person he was talking with; but this involved, with him, no
conscious mental process, no deliberate insincerity. It was rather
owing to a kind of constitutional adaptability, an unconquerable
distaste for quarrelling, and the absence of any decided opinions of
his own.

It was in the year 186--, just as peace had been concluded between
Prussia and Denmark, that I made Dannevig's acquaintance. He was then
the hero of the day; all Copenhagen, as it seemed, had gone mad over
him. He had just returned from the war, in which he had performed some
extraordinary feat of fool-hardiness and saved seven companies by the
sacrifice of his mustache. The story was then circulating