He had made a hundred new friends, had been welcomed in a hundred historic houses.

Wherever he had passed, he had left enthusiasm behind him--and he knew it.
He had grown accustomed to his own power, and yet its renewed evidence was a surprise to him every day.

There was something unreal in it.

There is always something unreal in fame, and great men know in their own hearts that they are not great.

It is only the world that thinks them so.