And two hours later cries of “There he is!” really did ring from all sides and all the corners shouted:  “Now the fun will begin!” Wherever they passed chairs were offered them.  No hand was shaken as often and as long as that of jovial Fritz Nettenmair, no member of the company had so much sincere praise poured into his ears as he.  But then, how agreeable he was!  How condescendingly he accepted all this deserved homage!  How witty he showed himself; how pleasantly he laughed!  And not at his own jokes alone—­there was no art in that; they were so brilliant that he had to laugh even if he didn’t want to—­he laughed at others too, little as they deserved it, compared with his.  There were people, to be sure, who paid little attention to him, but he did not notice them; and those who showed it more plainly were “Philistines, everyday fellows, insignificant people,” as he whispered to his brother with contemptuous pity.  It was quite peculiar:  everyone’s greater or lesser importance as a man and a citizen could be measured with perfect exactitude by the degree of his admiration for Fritz Nettenmair.

When the dancing began Fritz drew his brother into a room at the side.  “You must dance,” he said.  “My wife would turn you down, and that would be unpleasant for me.  I will bring you a partner who is firm on her feet and can keep you in time.  Pluck up heart, boy, even if it doesn’t go smoothly all at once.”

In the excitement of vanity Fritz Nettenmair had forgotten six years.  His brother was still to him the dreamer of old whom he forced to dance at times for his pleasure.  Now, when, paying no attention to his refusal, he led the girl to Apollonius, the latter resigned himself so as not to appear impolite.

Fritz Nettenmair was the best-natured fellow in the world as long as he knew himself to be the sole object of the general admiration.  In such a mood he could perform deeds of sacrifice for those who threw his brilliance into the shade.  So it was now.  As he sat among the important people, treating them to champagne, and read in his wife’s eyes the gratification with which she saw him overwhelmed with honors, a feeling crept over him as if he had forgiven his brother a great wrong, and he felt himself to be an extraordinarily noble man, who deserved all these marks of honor and who yet with wonderful modesty condescended to allow himself to be touched by them.  He saw that his brother was no longer the dreamer of old; but he forgave him that too.  All eyes were directed toward the handsome dancer and his skilful carriage.  Fritz teased his wife, and, in the certainty that he must far outshine his brother, he felt the additional gratification of forgiving any amount of wrong that Apollonius had never done him.