imperfection was to him, "I do not swim."

"That must be learned in summer!" said Wilhelm.

"There is so much to learn," answered Otto; "swimming will
certainly be the last thing." He now suddenly turned toward the
fortress, and stood still. "Only see how melancholy and quiet!"
said he, and led the conversation again to the surrounding scenery.
"The sentinel before the prison paces so quietly up and down, the
sun shines upon his bayonet! How this reminds me of a sweet little
poem of Heine's; it is just as though he described this fortress
and this soldier, but in the warmth of summer: one sees the picture
livingly before one, as here; the weapon glances in the sun, and
the part ends so touchingly,--'Ich wollt', er schosse mich todt!'
It is here so romantically beautiful! on the right the animated
promenade, and the view over the Sund; on the left, the desolate
square, where the military criminals are shot, and close upon it
the prison with its beam-fence. The sun scarcely shines through
those windows. Yet, without doubt, the prisoner can see us walking
here upon the wall."

"And envy our golden freedom!" said Wilhelm.

"Perhaps he derides it," answered Otto. "He is confined to his
chamber and the small courts behind the beam-lattice; we are
confined to the coast; we cannot fly forth with the ships into the
mighty, glorious world. We are also fastened with a chain, only
ours is somewhat longer than that of the prisoner. But we will not
think of this; let us go down to where the beautiful ladies are
walking."