Edouard paused; the thought of Adeline, of Madame Germeuil, the suspicions which the latter had conceived the night before, when she saw the face with moustaches; the brusque manners, and the more than careless garb of Jacques, which was in such striking contrast to his own, all this tormented the spirit of the young bridegroom, who, at the best weak and irresolute, tried in vain to harmonize his self-esteem and the sentiments which the sight of his brother awoke in him. “What the devil are you thinking about?” asked Jacques, taking Edouard’s arm. “Oh! I was reflecting; it is late, and I must go back to Paris. Important business demands my presence there.” Jacques made no reply, but his brow darkened, and he walked a few steps away from his brother. “What are you doing now, Jacques?” “Nothing,” said Jacques, as he scrutinized Edouard with more attention. “Nothing? Then what are your means of existence?” “Up to this time I have never asked anyone for anything.” “However, you do not seem to be very well off.” “I am not, that is a fact!” “What an idea, to wear such moustaches! You don’t expect to see my wife, with those on your face, I fancy?” “My moustaches will stay where they are; if your wife is a prude and the sight of me frightens her, never fear! she won’t see me very often!” “You misunderstand me, that isn’t what I meant. But I must leave you; I am expected in Paris; I do not ask you to come with me now--indeed you are expecting to meet someone in this village, I believe.” “Yes, I am expecting a comrade, a _friend_.” Jacques emphasized the last word and cast a meaning glance at his brother. “Well, I must leave you,” said Edouard, after a moment’s hesitation; “we shall meet again soon, I hope. Meanwhile, here, take this.” As he spoke, Edouard drew from his pocket his purse, which contained about ten louis, and offered it with a trembling hand to his brother; but Jacques proudly pushed Edouard’s hand away, pulled his hat over his eyes, put his hand quickly to the collar of his coat, and seemed to contemplate baring his breast; but he checked himself and said to Edouard in a cold tone: “Keep your money; I didn’t come here to ask alms of you, and I do not propose to become an object of your compassion; I thought that I had found a brother, but I made a mistake. I do not seem to you worthy to be received into your house; my dress and my face frighten you; that is enough; adieu, you will see me no more.” Jacques cast an angry glance at his brother, and strode from the garden through the little barred gate, that had remained open. Edouard, like all irresolute people, stood for a moment without moving, with his eyes fixed upon the gate through which his brother had left the garden. At last his natural feelings carried the day, he ran to the gate, went into the fields, and shouted at the top of his voice: “Jacques, Brother Jacques!”