Greif had leaped down from his place and was running up the hill at a
pace that would have tried the horses. In a moment more the two tall
men were in each other's arms, kissing each other on the cheek.

At three and twenty the student looked as much like his father as a
young and fair man can look like an elderly dark one. Their features
were the same, both had the same sinewy firmness of build and the same
eyes; but Greif's close-cut golden hair and delicate moustache gave him
a brilliancy his father had never possessed. He seemed to bring the
light with him into the deep shade of the glen where they met. One
looking at him would have felt instinctively that he was made to wear
the gleaming uniform of a Prussian Lifeguard, rather than the sober
garments of a civilian. As a matter of fact, he was dressed like an
Englishman, and would probably have been taken for one, to his own
intense disgust, in any European crowd.

'And how is the mother?' he asked in a somewhat formal tone, as soon as
the first embrace was over. He had been brought up with dutiful ideas.

'Your mother is exceedingly well,' answered Greifenstein, whose manner
also stiffened perceptibly. There was a moment's pause.

Perhaps it was in the hope of dissipating that awkward feeling which
somehow or other always made itself apparent when the Lady of
Greifenstein was mentioned, that her husband pulled out his case and
offered Greif a cigar.

'I have brought you a pipe,' said the latter, and as the carriage came
up to where they were standing he snatched his bag off the back seat.
'It will make you feel young again,' he laughed, as he took a paper