It had come to that—­the thought of her did not awaken any of the old hopes.  When he looked down from the height he asked himself:  “Shall I succeed in becoming a brother to her who is now my sister?”

He has arrived at the door of the paternal home.  In vain he has scanned the windows, seeking for some familiar face.  Now a thickset man in a black coat comes rushing out.  He dashes out so hastily, embraces him so wildly, presses him so close to his white waistcoat, lays his cheek so near his cheek and keeps it there so long that one must choose to believe either that he loves his brother to the utmost or—­that he does not want him to look into his eyes.  But at last he has to let go of him; he takes him by the right arm and draws him into the door.

“It’s fine that you’ve come!  It’s grand that you’ve come!  It really wasn’t necessary—­simply an idea of the old man’s, and he has nothing more to say about the business.  But it really is splendid of you; I’m only sorry that you’re making your betrothed’s eyes red for nothing.”  He said the words “your betrothed” so distinctly and in such a loud tone that they could be heard and understood in the living room.  Apollonius searched his brother’s face with moist eyes, as if to check off, point by point, whether everything was still there that had been so dear to him.  His brother did nothing to help him; he looked only at what lay between Apollonius’ chin and toes.

“Father wanted it,” said Apollonius easily; “and what you say of a betrothed—­”

His brother interrupted him; he laughed loudly in his old manner, so that even if Apollonius had gone on speaking he could not have been understood.  “That’s all right!  That’s all right!  And once more, it’s splendid that you’ve come to visit us, and we won’t let you go for a fortnight at least, whether you want to or not.  Don’t mind her,” he added softly, pointing through the doorway with his right hand while he opened the door with his left.

The young wife was standing at a cupboard with the contents of which she was busy, her back toward the door.  She turned, in an embarrassed and not quite friendly manner, and only toward her husband.  Her brother-in-law could still see nothing but a part of her right cheek, with a burning blush upon it.  Whatever other criticism might be made of her behavior, an unmistakable honesty showed itself in it, an incapability of pretending to be otherwise than she was.  She stood there as if she were preparing herself to hear an expected insult.  Apollonius went up to her and took her hand, which at first she seemed to want to draw away and then allowed to lie motionless in his.  He was glad to greet his sister-in-law.  He begged her not to be displeased at his coming and hoped by earnest endeavor to conquer the unmistakable dislike that she felt for him.

* * * * *

However considerate and courteous were the terms in which he clothed his pleading and hope, yet he expressed both only in thought.  That everything was just as he had imagined it and yet so entirely different robbed him of all ease and courage.