"I saw you on Wednesday in the _Königgasse_."
Jean-Christophe swallowed down his spittle and asked in a voice which he strove to make careless:
"Ah!" said Jean-Christophe; and after a moment: "You have never said anything about him to me."
Otto, who was not sorry to turn the conversation, pointed out a bird who was pecking at a tree. They talked of other things. Ten minutes later Jean-Christophe broke out again:
Otto did not like his cousin much, for he used to bother him with bad jokes; but a strange malign instinct made him add a few moments later:
Otto waited for Jean-Christophe to say something, but he seemed not to have heard. He was cutting a switch from a hazel-tree. Otto went on:
"He is amusing. He has all sorts of stories."
"And he is so clever ... and distinguished!..."
Jean-Christophe shrugged his shoulders as though to say:
"What interest can this person have for me?"
And as Otto, piqued, began to go on, he brutally cut him short, and pointed out a spot to which to run.
They did not touch on the subject again the whole afternoon, but they were frigid, affecting an exaggerated politeness which was unusual for them, especially for Jean-Christophe. The words stuck in his throat. At last he could contain himself no longer, and in the middle of the road he turned to Otto, who was lagging five yards behind. He took him fiercely by the hands, and let loose upon him:
"Listen, Otto! I will not--I will not let you be so friendly with Franz, because ... because you are my friend, and I will not let you love any one more than me! I will not! You see, you are everything to me! You cannot ... you must not!... If I lost you, there would be nothing left but death. I do not know what I should do. I should kill myself; I should kill you! No, forgive me!..."
Otto, moved and frightened by the sincerity of such grief, growling out threats, made haste to swear that he did not and never would love anybody so much as Jean-Christophe, that Franz was nothing to him, and that he would not see him again if Jean-Christophe wished it. Jean-Christophe drank in his words, and his heart took new life. He laughed and breathed heavily; he thanked Otto effusively. He was ashamed of having made such a scene, but he was relieved of a great weight. They stood face to face and looked at each other, not moving, and holding hands. They were very happy and very much embarrassed. They became silent; then they began to talk again, and found their old gaiety. They felt more at one than ever.