Ottomar had risen and taken up his gamebag; 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!"
His own eyes were wet; he had not expected to be received with so much affection by this strong stern man. It was but a passing emotion, and Uncle Ernst said, "Your things came yesterday. Where is Ferdinanda?"