"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.
"Perfectly," said Ottomar; "at least, I believe so. I have hardly spoken to them since they came home the day before yesterday. I have been on leave since yesterday morning shooting. You shoot?"
"I can hardly call myself a sportsman, though I have had opportunities of joining in very unusual sport."