"None. And remember, you must not know me, Hermann, no matter where we meet. I am sleepy." Hans rose.
And this, thought Hermann, his bewilderment gaining life once more, and this calm, unruffled man, whose hair was whiter than his own, a veteran of the bloodiest civil war in history, this prosperous mechanic, was his little brother Hans!
"Hans, have you no other greeting?" Hermann asked, spreading out his arms.
The wanderer's face beamed; and the brothers embraced.
"You forgive me, then, Hermann?"
"Must I not, little Hans? You are all that is left me of the blood. True, I swore that if ever I saw you again I should curse you."
The two stood back from each other, but with arms still entwined.
"Perhaps, Hans, I did not watch you closely enough in those days."
"And what has become of the principal cause?"
"The cause?"