The reason of this was a story the soldier told her.
One day, he said, his mother was taking her nap after dinner. Before she shut her door she told little Carl, who then was six, to go and stay with his big sister, Marianne. But Marianne was reading a famous book by the great poet, Goethe, called "The Sorrows of Werther," and she told Carl to run away and let her alone.
He did run away, and so far that not a soul could find him.
All the home was in the wildest confusion, Madame von Stork wringing her hands, scolding Marianne, and telling her that it was all her fault, because she would read books, write letters and poems; Mademoiselle Pauline, a young French girl who lived with them, searching everywhere and assuring his mother that Marianne was perfectly useless since she had been to Frankfort-on-Main, formed a friendship with Bettina Brentano and taken to adoring Goethe; the boys racing everywhere; and the good, calm father trying to quiet everybody.
At last Ilse and Elsa had screamed that Carl was coming, and in he walked with the prettiest story you can think of.
He had run away to the Thiergarten, a great, fine park in Berlin, and there had found some boys who had asked him to play horse.
One had reins and quickly harnessed Carl for his steed.
Then off he had pranced, up and down the avenues, until, with a snap, pop had gone the reins.
"A run-away! A run-away!" called the boys, as off had run Carl.
Faster came the drivers and faster ran the horse until, bump, he landed with his head right into a lady.