"Berengar!" she cried; and her voice died away. "And I shall tell his majesty what a scoundrel you are and then we'll see! Then we'll see, then we'll see!..." The empress trembled as she leant out of the window. She saw ten or eleven little boys; they looked perplexed. "Where is his highness?" she asked. "His highness is over there, ma'am!" shyly answered a little count, pointing to the back-court, which the empress could not see. "But what is happening? What a noise to make! Send his highness here at once! Berengar! Berengar!" His highness, Berengar, was called and came. He passed through the little dukes and counts and looked up at the window through which his mother was leaning. He was a small, sturdily built, vigorous little chap; his face was crimson with indignation, his two small, furious eyes were like two black sparks. "Berengar, come here!" cried the empress. "What is all this? Why can't you play without quarrelling?" "I'm not quarrelling, mamma, but ... but I shall tell papa ... and ... and then we'll see! Then we'll ..." "Berengar, come in here at once, through the palace, at once!" commanded the empress. Othomar looked out from behind the empress at the group of boys. He saw Berengar speak a word of apology to the biggest little duke and disappear through the back-court. A minute later, the boy entered the room. "Berengar," said the empress, "it's very bad manners to make such a noise in the park ... and just behind the palace too." The boy looked at her with his serious little crimson face: "Yes, mamma," he assented, gently. "What happened?" Berengar's lips began to tremble. "It was that beastly sentry ..." he began. "What about the sentry?" "He ... he didn't present arms to me!" "Didn't the sentry present arms to you? Why not?" "I don't know!" cried Berengar, indignantly. "But surely he always does?" "Yes, but this time he did not. He did the first time when we passed, but not the second time.... We were playing touch and, when we ran past him the second time, he didn't present arms!" Othomar began to scream with laughter. "There's nothing to laugh at!" cried Berengar, angrily. "And I shall tell papa and then you shall see." "But, Berengar," said the empress, "did you expect the man to present arms to you every time you ran past him while you were playing touch?" Berengar reflected: "He might at least have done it the second time. If it had been three, or four, or five times, I could have understood.... But only the second time!... What can the boys have thought of me?" "Listen, Berengar," said the empress, "whatever happens, it is not at all proper for you to call people names, whoever they may be, nor to make such a noise in the park, right behind the palace. An emperor's son never calls names, not even to a sentry. So now you must go straight to that sentry and tell him you are sorry you lost your temper so." "Mamma!" cried the child, in consternation. The empress' face was inflexible: