"One has to get accustomed to everyday life again certainly," said Reinhold; "but you soldiers remain in the same profession, and I do not think that Count Moltke will let you rest long on your laurels."
"Heaven knows! It is hateful work; the campaign was child's play compared to it!"
"But look you, it is a good deal harder upon us civilians, both in time of war--which is certainly not our trade, so that we can hardly meet the claims which are made upon us and which we make upon ourselves--and after the war too, when we are expected to return to our trade as if nothing had happened, and then generally find, to our cost, how hardly men learn, how easily they forget. Luckily, my profession is something like war--at least, in the moral qualities which it requires of a man--and that may be the reason why I, for my part, cannot join in the complaints which I have heard from so many upon this point."
"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?"