"He was a bronzed hairy man, with one sleeve empty, and a breast
covered with stars; but in his face, brown with sun and wind,
overgrown with hair and scarred with wounds, Melchior saw his second
brother! There was no doubt of it. And the brother himself, though he
bowed kindly in answer to the greetings showered on him, was gazing
anxiously for the old coach, where he used to ride and be so
uncomfortable, in that time to which he now looked back as the
happiest of his life.

"'I thank you, gentlemen. I am indebted to you, gentlemen. I have been
away long. I am going home.'

"'Of course he is!' shouted Melchior, waving his arms widely with
pride and joy. 'He is coming home; to this coach, where he was--oh,
it seems but an hour ago! Time goes so fast. We were great friends
when we were young together. My brother and I, ladies and gentlemen,
the hero and I--my brother--the hero with the stars upon his
breast--he is coming home!'

"Alas! what avail stars and ribbons on a breast where the life-blood
is trickling slowly from a little wound? The crowd looked anxious; the
hero came on, but more slowly, with his dim eyes straining for the old
coach; and Melchior stood with his arms held out in silent agony. But
just when he was beginning to hope, and the brothers seemed about to
meet, a figure passed between--a figure in a cloak.

"'I have seen you many times, Friend, face to face,' said the hero;
'but now I would fain have waited for a little while.'