"Francis," I said softly ... and I spoke in German ... "Francis, don't you know me?"
He was magnificent, strong and resourceful in his joy at our meeting as he had been in his months of weary waiting.
Only his mouth quivered a little as instantly his hands busied themselves with clearing away my breakfast.
"Jawohl!" he answered in a perfectly emotionless voice.
And then he smiled and in a flash the old Francis stood before me.
"Not a word now," he said in German as he cleared away the breakfast. "I am off this afternoon. Meet me on the river promenade by the Schiller statue at a quarter past two and we'll go for a walk. Don't stay here now but come back and lunch in the restaurant ... it's always crowded and pretty safe!"
Then he called out into the void:
"Twenty-six wants to pay!"
Such was my meeting with my brother.