"How strange!"
"What?"
"I was just thinking of him."
"That often happens, particularly in a big town and at the hour when every one is out. I shall not be surprised if we see him again at the Exhibition. Philip is a great lover of pictures, and draws and paints by no means badly. There, he has stopped! I thought so. Philip has good manners."
The next moment they were side by side with the phaeton.
"Good-morning, Ferdinanda! good-morning, Reinhold! I bless the light which showed me how to light on you the very first day! Bad pun that, Ferdinanda--eh? You look uncommonly well, my dear cousin, with your brown face and beard; and you need not be ashamed of the lady by your side either--eh? Where are you off to? The Exhibition? That is capital; we shall meet. That horse is like a mad thing to-day. Au revoir!"
He touched with his whip the black horses, who were already beginning to fidget, and drove quickly off, again nodding over his broad shoulders.
"I should not have known Philip again," said Reinhold; "he is not like you--I mean not like you or my uncle."
In fact, a greater contrast could hardly be imagined than between the big red beardless smooth face of the young man with his short hair, and the deeply-lined face of Uncle Ernst, surrounded and surmounted with its grey beard and hair, or the refined and unusual beauty of Ferdinanda.
"Lucky for him," said Ferdinanda.