Absorbed as he was in his own meditations, it did not strike Othomar that the little prince must have become worse for the empress, who was herself ill, to go to him. "And about what did you want to speak to me?" asked the emperor, as the prince remained silent. "About Berengar, papa." "About Berengar?" "About Berengar and myself. I have been contrasting myself with him, papa. We are brothers, we are both your sons. Which of us, do you think, takes most after you ... and ... our ancestors?" "What are you driving at, Othomar?" "At what is right, papa: right and just. Nature is sometimes unjust and blind; she ought to have let Berengar be born first and me next ... or even left me out altogether." "Once more, what are you driving at, Othomar?" "Can't you see, papa? I will tell you. Is Berengar not more of a monarch than I am? Is that not why he's your favourite? And ought I to deprive him of his natural rights for the sake of my traditional rights? I want to abdicate in his favour, papa. I want to abdicate everything, all my rights." "The boy's mad," muttered Oscar. "All my rights," repeated Othomar, dreamily, as though he foresaw the future: his little brother crowned. "Othomar, are you raving?" asked the emperor. "Papa, I am not raving. What I am now telling you I have thought over for days, perhaps weeks; I don't know: time passes so quickly.... What I am telling you I have discussed with mamma: it made her cry, but she did not oppose me. She looks at it as I do.... And what I tell you holds good; I have made up my mind and nothing can make me change it.... I am fond of Berengar; I am glad to give up everything to him; and I shall pray that he may become happy through my gift. I am convinced--and so are you--that Berengar will make a better emperor than I. What talent do I possess for ruling?..." He shrugged his shoulders in helplessness, with a nervous shudder that jolted them: "None," he answered himself. "I have no talent, I can do nothing. I do not know how to decide--as now--nor how to act; I shall always be a dreamer. Why then should I be emperor and he nothing more than the commander-in-chief of my army or my fleet? Surely that can't be right; that can't have been what nature intended.... Papa, I give it him, my birthright, and I ... I shall know how to live, if I must...." The emperor had listened to him with his elbows on the table and his hands under his chin and now sat staring at him with his small, pinched eyes: "Do you mean all this?" he asked. "Yes, papa." "You're not delirious?" "No, papa, I'm not delirious." "Then you're mad." The emperor rose: "Then you're mad, I tell you. Othomar, realize that you're mad and return to your senses; don't become quite insane." "Why do you call me insane, papa? _Can't_ you agree with me that Berengar would be better than I?" His father's cruel glances stabbed Othomar through and through: "No, you're not insane in that; you're right there...."