He was not belittling; he was only making comparisons.

He knew that he would be far happier in his adopted country, which would accomplish all these beautiful things farther on.
He looked up heavenward, where the three bergs shouldered the dazzling snow into the blue.

This impressed him more than all else; that little wrinkle in the middle berg's ice had been there when he was a boy.
Nothing had changed in Dreiberg save the Koenig Strasse, whose cobbles had been replaced by smooth blocks of wood.

At times he sent swift but uncertain glances toward the palaces.

He longed to peer through the great iron fence, but he smothered this desire.