"You naughty child—you——" began one voice, an old one, when a second—it belonged to the lady who had been bumped—interrupted:
"Please, dear friend, be quiet. Let him alone. Boys will be wild," and she smiled at her companion, a bright-eyed old lady with white hair.
Then she asked Carl his name, told him she had heard of his father, and then she patted one round cheek, kissed him on the other, and said, "Run away, little son, and carry a beautiful greeting to your parents."
"And who was she?" cried Bettina, when the lieutenant first told her.
"Guess," said the soldier, smiling mischievously.
Bettina shook her little head.
"The Queen," said the Herr Lieutenant, and then roared when he saw how surprised Bettina was.
She and her friend, the Countess von Voss, had been walking in the park like any other ladies, and Carl had run into her.
Bettina wanted to know everything.
Was Carl scolded for running off? Was he proud? And how had his mother liked it?