“It sounds very interesting,” said Gorman, “but I don’t know what happened. Do tell me.”
“It was rather exciting,” said the Queen. “Two of Captain von Moll’s men stopped our boat and Kalliope hit one of them with an oar. Did he lose many teeth?”
Von Moll drew himself up stiffly. He would have been better pleased if the Queen had tendered some apology to him and promised that the over-daring Kalliope should be punished. It is a serious thing to strike a seaman of the Imperial navy, a man wearing the Emperor’s uniform. In von Moll’s opinion such conduct could not, without grave impropriety, be described as “rather fun.” He was not at all sure that the German navy would not suffer in prestige among the islanders.
“The man,” he said stiffly, “had three teeth broken.”
“Oh,” said the Queen, “I’m so sorry, and I’m afraid there’s no dentist on the island. Still it was his own fault, wasn’t it?”
“I am sure,” said von Moll, “that you will punish the girl suitably.”
The Queen looked at him with astonishment. She had not the slightest intention of punishing Kalliope. It seemed to her extraordinary that von Moll should suggest such a thing. She was a little inclined to be angry. Then she thought that von Moll must be making a joke. He looked rather grim and solemn; but perhaps that was the way all Germans looked when they made jokes. She laughed in polite appreciation of von Moll’s attempt at humour.
Gorman, watching with twinkling eyes, was greatly pleased. Von Moll was evidently another Steinwitz in seriousness and pompous dignity. It was a delightfully amusing trait in the German character.
“I’m still rather in the dark,” he said. “Who’s Kalliope?”
“My maid,” said the Queen. “There she is.”