Inadvertently Ulrich glanced up at the windows, supposing that Agathe might be standing there observing his arrival. He wondered if he would find her agreeable, and realized with discomfort that his stay would be quite unpleasant if he did not like her. That she neither came to the train nor to the door of the house, however, seemed to him a confidence-inspiring sign, and it showed a certain kinship of feeling, for strictly speaking it would have been as unwarranted for her to rush to meet him as it would be for him to dash to his father’s coffin immediately upon arrival. He sent word that he would be ready in half an hour, and went to get himself in order. The room that had been prepared for him was in the garret-like third floor of the main building and had been his room when he was a child; it was now curiously supplemented by several pieces of furniture brought together haphazardly to serve the convenience of an adult. “There’s probably no way of arranging it differently as long as the body is still in the house,” Ulrich thought, settling in among the ruins of his childhood, which was not easy, but there was also a vaguely pleasant feeling that rose like mist from this floor. He decided to change his clothes, and as he began to do so it occurred to him to put on a pajama-like leisure suit he had come across while unpacking. “She should have at least come down to say hello when I got here!” he thought, and there was a touch of rebuke in the carelessness with which he chose this garment, even though he continued to feel that his sister must have a reason for acting as she did and that he could like her for it, which in turn lent his change of clothes something of the courtesy that lies in the unforced expression of ease with another person.

It was a wide, soft, woolen pajama, almost a kind of Pierrot costume, checkered black and gray and gathered at the waist, wrists, and ankles; he liked it for its comfort, a quality that felt pleasant as he came down the stairs after the sleepless night and the long journey. But when he entered the room where his sister was waiting for him, he was more than a little surprised by his outfit, for by a secret directive of chance he found himself face-to-face with a tall, blond Pierrot swathed in delicate gray-and-rust stripes and diamonds, who at first glance looked quite like himself.

“I didn’t know we were twins!” Agathe said, her face lighting up with amusement.

*A train compartment in Austria and Germany was called a “coupé.” The literal meaning of the French word—“cut”—adds a punning reference to the cutoff phrases still lingering in Ulrich’s memory.

2

TRUST

THEY DID not greet each other with a kiss but merely stood facing each other amicably, then shifted positions, and Ulrich was able to look at his sister more closely. They were of matching height. Agathe’s hair was lighter than his, but was of the same fragrant dryness as Ulrich’s skin, the only feature he loved about his own body. Her chest did not lose itself in breasts, but was slim and sturdy, and her limbs seemed to have the long, slender spindle shape that combines natural fitness with beauty.