'Ah, well, that's what they all said of you,' moralised the girl;
'such a tongue to come round - such a flattering tongue!'

' O, you forget, I am a man of middle age,' the Prince chuckled.

'Well, to speak to you, I should think you was a boy; and Prince or
no Prince, if you came worrying where I was cooking, I would pin a
napkin to your tails. . . . And, O Lord, I declare I hope your
Highness will forgive me,' the girl added. 'I can't keep it in my
mind.'

'No more can I,' cried Otto. 'That is just what they complain of!'

They made a loverly-looking couple; only the heavy pouring of that
horse-tail of water made them raise their voices above lovers'
pitch. But to a jealous onlooker from above, their mirth and close
proximity might easily give umbrage; and a rough voice out of a tuft
of brambles began calling on Ottilia by name. She changed colour at
that. 'It is Fritz,' she said. 'I must go.'

'Go, my dear, and I need not bid you go in peace, for I think you
have discovered that I am not formidable at close quarters,' said
the Prince, and made her a fine gesture of dismissal.

So Ottilia skipped up the bank, and disappeared into the thicket,
stopping once for a single blushing bob - blushing, because she had
in the interval once more forgotten and remembered the stranger's
quality.