" thought
Frau von Treumann, for what could it matter to her?--and remained fixed
at Anna's side as they paced slowly up and down the grass, monopolising
Karlchen's attention with her absurd questions about his brother
officers. Anna walked between them, thinking of other things, holding up
her trailing white dress with one hand, and with the other the edges of
her blue cloak together at her neck. She was half a head taller than
Karlchen, and so was his mother, who walked on his other side. Karlchen,
becoming more and more enamoured the longer he walked, looked up at her
through his eyelashes and told himself that the Treumanns were certainly
in luck, for he had stumbled on a goddess.

"The grass is damp," cried Frau von Treumann, interrupting the endless
questions. "My dear princess--your rheumatism--and I who so easily get
colds. Come, we will go off the grass--we are not young enough to risk
wet feet."

"I do not feel it," said the princess, "I have thick shoes. But you,
dear Frau von Treumann, do not stay if you have fears."

"It _is_ damp," said Anna, turning up the sole of her shoe. "Shall we go
on to the path?"

On the path it was obvious that they must walk in couples. Arrived at
its edge, the princess stopped and looked round with an urbane smile.
"My dear child," she said to Anna, taking her arm, "we have been keeping
Herr von Treumann from his mother regardless of his feelings. I beg you
to pardon my thoughtlessness," she added, turning to him, "but my
interest in hearing of my old friends' sons has made me quite forget
that you took this long journey to be with your dear mother. We will not
interrupt you further. Come, my dear, I wanted to ask you----" And she
led Anna away, dropping her voice to a confidential questioning
concerning the engaging of a new cook.

There was nothing to be done. The only crumb of comfort Karlchen
obtained--but it was a big one--was a reluctantly given invitation, on
his mother's vividly describing at the hour of parting the place where
he was to spend the night, to remove his luggage from the inn to Anna's
house, and to sleep there.

"You are too good, _meine Gnaedigste_," he said, consoled by this for the
_tete-a-tete_ he had just had with his mother; "but if it in any way
inconveniences you--we soldiers are used to roughing it----"

"But not like that, not like that, _lieber Junge_," interrupted his
mother anxiously. "It is not fit for a dog, that inn, and I heard this