“And you? What are you dissatisfied with?” she asked, with the same smile.

Her disbelief in his self-dissatisfaction delighted him, and unconsciously he tried to draw her into giving utterance to the grounds of her disbelief.

“I am happy, but dissatisfied with myself.⁠ ⁠…” he said.

“Why, how can you be dissatisfied with yourself if you are happy?”

“Well, how shall I say?⁠ ⁠… In my heart I really care for nothing whatever but that you should not stumble⁠—see? Oh, but really you mustn’t skip about like that!” he cried, breaking off to scold her for too agile a movement in stepping over a branch that lay in the path. “But when I think about myself, and compare myself with others, especially with my brother, I feel I’m a poor creature.”