"And the Herr Lieutenant, dear grandfather?"
But Hans shook his head, his face saddening.
"Nein, nein, dear child," he said, "we will not see our soldier," and he muttered something against Napoleon.
Poor little Bettina!
It would be nice to see the lovely Queen, but she knew the Herr Lieutenant, and he told her stories. Her lips began to quiver.
The old man, noticing it, held her hand closer in his.
"Nein, nein, do not cry, Liebchen," he said, "we may see the Herr Lieutenant. Who can tell? Soldiers are everywhere."
Then he taught her a story to tell if any questioned them. She had lost her parents and her grandfather was taking her to an aunt in Prussia. Their home had been burned after Jena and they had nothing to live upon. Of her little brothers, or her grandparents Weyland, she was to say nothing.
It was well the old man had been in haste to tell her these things, for even that evening they were stopped by French soldiers, who searched Hans's pockets and even his clothes, and questioned both him and Bettina.
"Nonsense," said one man when they discovered nothing, "this is not the man we want. This one speaks true. Look at his eyes. And who burdens himself with a child when out on such business?"