"It is always at night that I see you, rarely in the bright daytime.
What do you do during the day? It is not yet vintage. What do you do?"

"Will you trust me a little longer, Gretchen, just a little longer?"

"Always, not a little longer, always. But wait till the music stops and
I will tell you of my adventure."

"You have had an adventure?"--distrustfully.

"Yes. Be still."

There were tones in Gretchen's voice that the young vintner could never
quite understand. There was a will little less than imperial, and often
as he rebelled, he never failed to bow to it.

"What was this adventure?" he demanded, as the music stopped.

She told him about the geese, the grand duke, and the two crowns. He
laughed, and she joined him, for it was amusing now.

The musicians were putting away their instruments, the crowd was
melting, the attendants were stacking the chairs, so the two lovers went
out of the gardens toward the town and the Krumerweg.

Meanwhile Carmichael had lectured the policeman, who was greatly
disturbed.

"Your Excellency, I am sure Colonel von Wallenstein meant no harm."