He carried a thin cane, which he pressed into the shape of a bow on the pavement and then let shoot out straight again. The silver handle of this cane, which did not harmonise with the shabbiness of his clothing, recalled something to Lilly connected with chilliness, warm rolls, autumnal glow, and Sunday chimes. She cried aloud. Now she remembered. Fritz Redlich! Yes, it was Fritz Redlich. No doubt of it. Her girlhood love! Her girlhood love! Her great warrior in life's battles! Her St. Joseph's protégé! Oh, God, her St. Joseph! And the revolver! And the potato soup with sliced sausage! And the three graves at Ottensen! "Mr. Redlich! Mr. Redlich!" Trembling, laughing, she stood behind him and stretched out both hands. He dropped his goggles and blinking his weak eyes, suspiciously scrutinised the tall, elegant lady from behind whose lace veil two great, tear-filled eyes were shining a blissful greeting. Then he awkwardly pulled at the brim of his hat. "Mr. Redlich--I'm Lilly--Lilly Czepanek. Don't you remember me any more?" Yes, now he remembered. "Certainly," he said, "why shouldn't I?" As he spoke he gave a furtive jerk at his waistcoat, as if that were the readiest way of improving the poverty of his appearance. "Dear me, Mr. Redlich! We haven't seen each other for an eternity. I think it must be seven or eight years. No, not quite. But it seems much longer. Everything's gone well with you in the meantime, hasn't it? And I suppose you're dreadfully busy. But if you're not, we might spend a little time together now." He really was quite busy, but if she so desired, they might remain together a while. "How would it be if we went to a restaurant and took a glass of beer?" she suggested, still between laughter and tears. "Well, well, Mr. Redlich, who'd have thought it possible?" He was decidedly opposed to taking a glass of beer. "Restaurants are always so stuffy and full of people, and the beer here is so wretched--unfit to drink." "The poor fellow has no money to pay for it," Lilly thought, and proposed sitting on a bench instead. It made no difference, just so they were together. "That's worth considering," he said, "although--" He looked about warily on all sides to see if anyone was scandalised at the ill-matched couple. They turned into the quieter Weinbersgsweg. Lilly, looking at him sidewise with pride and emotion, as if she had created him out of nothingness, kept murmuring: "Is it possible? Is it possible?" In a dark spot near a church they found a pleasant bench overhung with lilac buds which a love couple had just vacated. "Well, now tell me all about yourself, Mr. Redlich. My, the things we have to say to each other!" "There _is_ a good deal to tell," he replied, hesitating, "but perhaps my lady will begin." "Oh, pshaw, I haven't been a 'my lady' for a long time," cried Lilly, blushing consciously. "Yes, to be sure--I heard something of the sort," he replied.