In front of the Redern Palace he saw Lieutenant von Wedell of the Dragoon Guards coming towards him.
"Where are you going, Wedell?"
"To the club. And you?"
"To Hiller's."
"Aren't you rather early?"
"Yes, but what of it? I am to breakfast with an old uncle of mine, an old Neumärker who lives in an odd corner with 'Aldermann, Petermann and Zimmermann'--all names that rhyme with man, but without connection or obligation. By the way, he was once in your regiment, my Uncle, I mean. To be sure it was long ago, about forty years. Baron Osten."
"From Wietzendorf?"
"The same."
"Oh, I know him, at least by name. There is some relationship. My grandmother was an Osten. Is he the same who has the quarrel with Bismarck?"
"The same. I tell you what, Wedell, you had better come too. The club can wait and Pitt and Serge too; you can find them at three just as well as at one. The old gentleman is still wild over the blue and gold of the dragoons, and is enough of a Neumärker to consider every Wedell an acquisition."