e shall soon get rid of him, I think," he went on as if he had not
been reading from the stable-wall. "There is no room here for two
households. And Anne is accustomed to plenty of space."

That was the name of the girl with whom Apollonius had been obliged to
dance at the dull ball and see home afterward. Since then she had
often been at the house on pretexts which her crimson cheek branded as
lies. Her father too, a much-respected citizen, had sought Apollonius'
acquaintance, and Fritz Nettenmair had furthered the matter in every
way he could.

"Anne?" cried his wife as if shocked.

"It's good that she can't lie," thought Fritz Nettenmair with relief.
But it occurred to him that her inability to disguise her feelings
would also promote his brother's evil plan. He had sought to make her
jealous as a last resort. That had been foolish of him, and he already
regretted it. She could not pretend; and even if he were still the
dreamer of old, her excitement could not but betray to him what was
going on in her breast, could not but betray it to herself. And
then--once more he had reached the point to which every conclusion led
him; he saw her awakening to an understanding of herself. "And
then"--he forced the words out so that every syllable tore itself on
his teeth--"and then--she'll learn to know what it means!"

His brother expected him in the living-room. "Of course, now that he
knows I saw him, he must make some excuse for having passed by here
when he thought she was alone." Thus thought Fritz, and followed his
brother.

Apollonius was really waiting for him in the living-room. He wanted to
see his brother in order to warn him against the evil-looking workman.
He had heard much that was suspicious about him, and knew that his
brother trusted him implicitly. "And so you order me to send him
away?" asked Fritz; and this time he could not help allowing his spite
to gleam through his disguise. From the tone in which he spoke
Apollonius could not fail to read his real feeling. It was: "So you
want to force your way even into the shed too, and drive me out of it.
Try it, if you dare!"

Apollonius looked into his brother's eyes with unconcealed pain. He
brushed the lapel of his brother's coat as if he would wipe away
whatever clouded the relations between them, and said: "Have I done
anything to hurt you?"

"Me?" laughed his brother. His laughter was intended to mean: "I'm
sure I don't know what!" But it really meant