An occasion for manifesting this skill did not fail to present itself
soon--as indeed it seldom does to such a hero of romance as young Otto
was. Fate seems to watch over such: events occur to them just in the
nick of time; they rescue virgins just as ogres are on the point of
devouring them; they manage to be present at court and interesting
ceremonies, and to see the most interesting people at the most
interesting moment; directly an adventure is necessary for them, that
adventure occurs: and I, for my part, have often wondered with delight
(and never could penetrate the mystery of the subject) at the way in
which that humblest of romance heroes, Signor Clown, when he wants
anything in the Pantomime, straightway finds it to his hand. How is it
that,--suppose he wishes to dress himself up like a woman for instance,
that minute a coalheaver walks in with a shovel-hat that answers for a
bonnet; at the very next instant a butcher's lad passing with a string
of sausages and a bundle of bladders unconsciously helps Master Clown
to a necklace and a tournure, and so on through the whole toilet?
Depend upon it there is something we do not wot of in that mysterious
overcoming of circumstances by great individuals: that apt and wondrous
conjuncture of THE HOUR AND THE MAN; and so, for my part, when I heard
the above remark of one of the archers, that Otto had never a feather
in his bonnet, I felt sure that a heron would spring up in the next
sentence to supply him with an aigrette.
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