ing with a charming
smile, not untinged by emotion; that it was Risler himself was evident
from the fact that, in his joy at seeing his brother Frantz once more,
he could find nothing better to say than, "I am very happy, I am very
happy!"

Although it was Sunday, Risler, as was his custom, had come to the
factory to avail himself of the silence and solitude to work at his
press. Immediately on his arrival, Pere Achille had informed him that
his brother was in Paris and had gone to the old house on the Rue de
Braque, and he had hastened thither in joyful surprise, a little
vexed that he had not been forewarned, and especially that Frantz had
defrauded him of the first evening. His regret on that account came to
the surface every moment in his spasmodic attempts at conversation, in
which everything that he wanted to say was left unfinished, interrupted
by innumerable questions on all sorts of subjects and explosions of
affection and joy. Frantz excused himself on the plea of fatigue, and
the pleasure it had given him to be in their old room once more.

"All right, all right," said Risler, "but I sha'n't let you alone
now--you are coming to Asnieres at once. I give myself leave of absence
today. All thought of work is out of the question now that you have
come, you understand. Ah! won't the little one be surprised and glad! We
talk about you so often! What joy! what joy!"

The poor fellow fairly beamed with happiness; he, the silent man,
chattered like a magpie, gazed admiringly at his Frantz and remarked
upon his growth. The pupil of the Ecole Centrale had had a fine physique
when he went away, but his features had acquired greater firmness,
his shoulders were broader, and it was a far cry from the tall,
studious-looking boy who had left Paris two years before, for Ismailia,
to this handsome, bronzed corsair, with his serious yet winning face.

While Risler was gazing at him, Frantz, on his side, was closely
scrutinizing his brother, and, finding him the same as always, as
ingenuous, as loving, and as absent-minded as times, he said to himself:

"No! it is not possible--he has not ceased to be an honest man."

Thereupon, as he reflected upon what people had dared to imagine, all
his wrath turned against that hypocritical, vicious woman, who deceived
her husband so impudently and with such absolute impunity that she
succeeded in causing him to be considered her confederate. Oh! what a
terrible reckoning he proposed