It was not the Amtshauptmann's habit needlessly to alarm women, and so instead of talking about the troubles in the Court of Justice, he began about the bad weather, and he was just giving a short description of the pools in the Stemhagen market-place--for it was not paved in those days,--when the door opened and the French colonel came in. He made my mother a stiff bow, and advanced towards the Amtshauptmann. We children left our playthings and crept, in a little knot, into the corner behind the tile-stove, like chickens when a kite is overhead, and wondered what this meant. Probably my mother also wondered, for she gazed anxiously at the old Herr in whose face there was a cold, haughty look that she had never seen before. But the Colonel did not take it ill, and there was a friendly politeness in his tone as he said to the old gentleman, "I beg your pardon. I heard just now in the court the name of 'Weber.' Is your name 'Weber?'" "Joseph Heinrich Weber," replied the Amtshauptmann shortly and stood as erect as a pillar. "Have you not a brother named 'Adolph Diedrich?'" "Adolph Diedrich, professor at Rostock," answered the old Herr without moving a limb. "Herr Amtshauptmann," said the French officer and stretched out both hands towards him, "let what passed between us this morning be forgotten. You are dearer to me than you think. I have read a name on your stick that is engraved deeply in my heart. Look here 'Renatus von Toll!'" "And you know that man?" asked the old Herr, and it was as if the sun had risen over his face. "How should I not?" said the Colonel, "why, he is my father." "What!" exclaimed the Amtshauptmann. "What say you, eh? What say you, eh?" And he held the colonel out at arm's length and looked into his eyes. "You the son of Renatus von Toll?" "Yes, and he has often spoken to me of his two best friends, 'the Webers,' 'the tall Mecklenburgers.'" "My friend," cried the old Herr, turning to my mother, "of whom have I talked to you oftenest? What say you, eh? Of the fine Westphalian, Renatus?" My mother nodded her head; she could not speak, for there was something in the old gentleman's delight that brought the tears into her eyes; and we silly youngsters came out from behind the stove and grew bolder, and it all seemed to us as happy as if one of our cousins had come. "My boy, my boy!" cried the Amtshauptmann, "I ought to have known you, if the damned French uniform.... No, no, I did not mean to say that," he added quickly as he saw the blood rush into the Colonel's face. "Tell me, my boy, has your father still the clear brown eyes? What say you, eh? Has he still the curly brown hair?--Such a splendid man he was, my friend!" said he to my mother, "God has written the word 'man' on his forehead." The Colonel now said that the brown eyes were still there, but that the hair had turned white.