"That is capital!" he exclaimed at last. "He must be a good shot that--what's his name?--the Englishman, Mr. Smirkson; and you can't shoot badly either, but then you are a soldier. By the way, do you still not remember where we came across each other? It must have been in Orleans, as, so far as I can remember, that is the only time that my regiment came in contact with yours."
"And it was in Orleans!" cried Reinhold--"of course it was in Orleans, when our two regiments combined to furnish a guard; and a jolly guard it was, too, thanks to your being such good company and having such a cheery temper. How could I have failed to remember it, and even your name, in the last few days? Now it is all coming back to me. Several of your brother officers came in afterwards--a Herr von Walbach."
"Walbach--quite right; he fell afterwards before Paris, poor fellow. I am very intimate with his family. Perhaps he has got the best of it; it is horridly dull work since the campaign was over!"
"One has to get accustomed to everyday life again certainly," said Reinhold; "but you soldiers remain in the same profession, and I do not think that Count Moltke will let you rest long on your laurels."
"Heaven knows! It is hateful work; the campaign was child's play compared to it!"
"But look you, it is a good deal harder upon us civilians, both in time of war--which is certainly not our trade, so that we can hardly meet the claims which are made upon us and which we make upon ourselves--and after the war too, when we are expected to return to our trade as if nothing had happened, and then generally find, to our cost, how hardly men learn, how easily they forget. Luckily, my profession is something like war--at least, in the moral qualities which it requires of a man--and that may be the reason why I, for my part, cannot join in the complaints which I have heard from so many upon this point."
"Just so--exactly," said Ottomar; "no doubt. Shall you stop long in Berlin?"
He was looking out of window, from which many lights were now visible.
"A few weeks--perhaps months; it depends upon circumstances--matters which I cannot foresee."
"I beg your pardon--I do not want to be impertinent--what did you say your name was?"
He rubbed the window with his handkerchief where his breath had dimmed it. Reinhold could not help smiling at the careless manner of keeping up the conversation. "I can bear more from you than from most men," he thought to himself, and repeated his name.
The face pressed against the window turned sharply towards him with an expression of surprise and curiosity, for which Reinhold could not account.
"I beg your pardon if I ask a very stupid question--have you relations in Berlin?"
"Yes. I have not seen them for years; to visit them was the original object of my journey."
"I--I know several people of your name. General----"
"We Schmidts are middle class, very middle class. My uncle, I believe, has very considerable marble-works."
"In the Canal Strasse?"
"Yes. Do you know him?"
"Only by sight; a very stately old gentleman. We live in the Springbrunnen Strasse, back to back, or rather shoulder to shoulder. The court-yard of your uncle's place of business runs far into the Park Strasse at the back, and the little garden belonging to our house (the grounds were originally part of the same property) on one side joins the large garden belonging to your uncle. We see each other over hedges and walls without being acquainted--I mean formally, for, as I said, I know your uncle by sight very well, and your cousin."
He let down the window; the train ran into the station.
"Are you expected?"
"Yes; it would otherwise be a doubtful experiment when one has not met for ten years."
"Can I be of any use to you?"
Ottomar had risen and taken up his gamebag; he had held his gun between his knees all the time.
"Thanks, very much."
The train stopped. Reinhold took his things out of the net. He could not collect them all at once. When he turned round Herr von Werben had already jumped out, Reinhold saw him once hastily threading the crowd, and then lost sight of him as he let his eyes wander till they caught sight of a man who was standing at some little distance. The stately, broad-shouldered figure, the pose of the head held up so proudly, while turning to right and to left as he looked about him, the thick beard, almost entirely grey--how could he have doubted his recognising that face at the first glance!
It was Uncle Ernst.
"Ah! my dear boy!"
Such a hearty tone was in the deep strong voice, and hearty and strong was the pressure from the large muscular hand which was stretched out to Reinhold.
"The very image of your father!" said Uncle Ernst.
The fine eyes which were fixed on Reinhold's face grew dim. The hand which held his loosened its grasp, and his uncle caught him to his breast and kissed him.
"My dear uncle!"
His own eyes were wet; he had not expected to be received with so much affection by this strong stern man. It was but a passing emotion, and Uncle Ernst said, "Your things came yesterday. Where is Ferdinanda?"
"Is she here?"
"There she comes."
A tall handsome girl came hurriedly up to them. "I had quite lost you, father. How do you do, my dear cousin! Welcome to Berlin!"
A pair of melancholy blue eyes glanced at him with what Reinhold thought a rather uncertain look. There was a sort of hasty indifference, too, in the tone of the full deep voice, while the pressure of the hand she gave him was but slight.
"I certainly should not have known you," said Reinhold.
"Nor I you."
"You were still a child then, and now----"
"And now we will try and get out of the crowd," said Uncle Ernst, "and you can say what you have got to say to each other on the way and at home."
He had already turned and went on a few steps; Reinhold was about to offer his arm to his cousin when suddenly Herr von Werben stood before him.
"I must say good-bye."
"I beg your pardon, Herr von Werben, but you disappeared so suddenly----"
"I had hoped to be of some use, but I see I am too late. Will you introduce me?"
"Lieutenant von Werben--my cousin, Fräulein Ferdinanda Schmidt."
Ottomar bowed, hat in hand. Ferdinanda returned the bow, very formally it seemed to Reinhold.
"I have often had the pleasure of seeing Fräulein Schmidt at the window when I have been riding by. I will not presume to think that I have been honoured by any such notice in return."
Ferdinanda did not answer. There was a gloomy, almost severe, expression upon her face, which made her look like her father.
"I will not detain you," said Ottomar; "I hope to have the pleasure of meeting my fellow-traveller again. Good-bye, Fräulein Schmidt."
He bowed again and walked quickly away. Some knots of people collected at the entrance came between them.
"Oh, do come!" said Ferdinanda.
She had taken Reinhold's arm and suddenly pressed forward impatiently.
"I beg your pardon, but I could not help introducing that man to you. You did not seem to like him?"
"I? Why should I mind it? My father cannot bear waiting."
"Who was that?" asked Uncle Ernst.
"A Herr von Werben--a