tried to go over the horses, some endeavored to go under. One landed,
full-winged, against the grand duke's chest and swept his vizored cap
off his head and rolled it into the dust. The duke signed to his
companions to draw up; to proceed in this undignified manner was
impossible. All laughed heartily, however; all excepting the goose-girl.
To her it was far from being a laughing matter. It would take half an
hour to calm her stupid charges. And she was _so_ tired.

"Stupids!" she cried despairingly.

"From pigs and chickens, good Lord deliver us!" shouted the civilian,
sliding from his horse and recovering the duke's cap.

Now, the duke was a kind-hearted, thoughtful man, notwithstanding his
large and complex affairs of state; as he ceased laughing, he searched a
pocket, and tossed a couple of coins to the forlorn goose-girl.

"I am sorry, little one," he said gravely. "I hope none of your geese
is hurt."

"Oh, Highness!" cried the girl, breathless from her recent endeavors and
overcome with the grandeur of the two ducal effigies in her hand. She
had seen the grand duke times without number, but she had never yet been
so near to him. And now he had actually spoken to her. It was a miracle.
She would tell them all that night in the dark old Krumerweg. And for
the moment his prospect overshadowed all thought of her geese.

The civilian dusted the royal cap with his sleeve, returned it, and
mounted. He then looked casually at the girl.