"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 game-bag; 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!"