CHAPTER I. "Tickets, please! This is the last station, gentlemen." Reinhold handed his ticket to the guard, and cast a glance upon his sleeping fellow-traveller. He, however, did not stir. "Ticket, sir, please!" said the guard, in a louder voice. The sleeper roused himself. "Ah, yes!" He felt in the side pocket of his grey shooting-coat, gave up the required ticket, leaned back in his corner again, and seemed to be already asleep when the train started. When first he got into the train, some two or three stations back, two other men in shooting-dress having accompanied him to the carriage, and taken a somewhat noisy farewell, it had struck Reinhold that this was not the first time that he had seen the slight active figure, and heard the clear, imperious voice. That the traveller was a military man, was evident from his conversation with his friends, but in vain did he ransack his recollections of the campaign to get on the right tack; it was all too confused, incidents crowded too quickly on each other, there was nothing to link these memories together. But as the sleeper changed his position, and the light from the lamp fell more clearly upon him, Reinhold looked with increasing interest upon the face which seemed so strangely familiar. The well-formed forehead, shaded by short, curly, brown hair, the fine straight nose, the delicate lips, with the slight dark moustache, the finely chiselled though rather long chin--now he knew where and when that face, more beautiful, it is true, and more fascinating, had last been seen by him! He of the grey shooting-coat, who had opened his eyes and was carelessly glancing at his companion, turned his head aside, and then immediately turning back, said: "I beg your pardon, but it strikes me that we must have met before." "So I think," replied Reinhold courteously; "but my memory has played me false." "In the campaign, perhaps?" "That was my first thought, too." "Perhaps my name may be some help. Ottomar von Werben, Lieutenant in the ---- Regiment, No. 19." A joyful thought struck Reinhold. "My name is Lieutenant Reinhold Schmidt, of the Reserve. I had the pleasure, not long ago, of travelling in the steamer from Stettin to Sundin, with a general officer of your name, and his daughter----" "My father and sister," said Ottomar. "Strange coincidence that--very!" He sank back in his corner, from which he had raised himself, with a civil bow. "The Lieutenant of Reserve affords but slight interest to the Guardsman," thought Reinhold to himself. Under other circumstances he certainly would not have continued the conversation which the other had cut so short; but now he could not resist making an exception. "I hope that the General and his daughter are well?" he began afresh.