His brothers needed money more than ever. Max had passed his last examination, and was now beginning his first year’s tutorship at college without salary; and Gottfried, the clerk, was out of situation for several months every year. The two wrote begging letters in every possible key, from the jovial “Fork me out thirty thalers immediately,” to the heartrending supplication, “If you don’t want me to be ruined, have mercy,” etc. Paul passed many a sleepless night thinking how to help them, and it frequently happened that he deprived himself of something necessary so as to be able to send them the money. Once Gottfried had written that he had no decent clothes and urgently needed a summer suit. Paul just wanted a summer suit himself, for he had outgrown his old one; sighing, he put the money which he had saved up for himself into an envelope and sent it to his brother; but in the letter accompanying it he mentioned that he was not less reduced in his wardrobe than himself. His brother showed himself magnanimous, and a fortnight later sent him a parcel of clothes and a letter, in which he said: “I enclose an old suit of mine. You, in your humble position, will probably be able to use it still.” Paul had also enabled the twins to have a better education than was to be expected from the very reduced circumstances of his home. He had urged the vicar’s wife, who had formerly been a governess, to take them into the private school which she had established for the daughters of well-to-do landowners from the neighboring villages. The money for the schooling was not the worst of it, and he could manage also to procure their books and copy-books; but it was difficult, very difficult, to keep them nicely dressed, for his pride would not allow his sisters to be behind their friends, and perhaps to be considered as beggar children. He himself knew too well the feeling of being looked down upon to let his sisters experience the same. His mother did not offer him any help even in these little feminine cares. She was so much cowed by her husband’s abuse that she lacked the courage to buy the smallest trifle on her own responsibility. “What you do, my son, is sure to be right,” she said, and Paul drove to town and was cheated, both by the draper and the dress-maker. The twins grew up blooming, careless, and saucily merry, without the faintest idea what a tragedy was being enacted in their immediate neighborhood. At ten years old they romped and fought with the village boys, at twelve they went with them to steal pears, and at fifteen graciously accepted bunches of violets from them. They were known far and wide as the most beautiful girls of the neighborhood. Paul knew this well, and was not a little proud of it; but what he did not know was that they had rendezvous behind the garden fence, and that half the boys who were to be confirmed with them could boast of having kissed their sweet red lips. CHAPTER X.