Her companions made a pretense of restraining her, but it was plain that they were enjoying the scene, and Maud continued to hold forth. "German! And calls herself English. Goes round giving presents to honest working-girls so as she can carry on her dirty work of spying. Goes round trying to get a girl's boy away from her by low, dirty, mean tricks as she's learnt from the bloody Germans who she belongs to. Yes, it's you I'm talking to," she shrieked at Queenie. White as paper, she sprang up from her seat and began to answer Maud, notwithstanding Sylvia's efforts to silence her. "You was being a bad wicked girl," she panted. "You dare to say I was being German! I hate the Germans! I _am_ English. I _am_ English. You dare to say I was being German!" Upon this an Austrian girl at another table began to revile Queenie from her point of view for abusing the Germans; before ten seconds had passed the gardens were in an uproar. A fat French Jewess stood on a table and shouted: "_Oh, les sales boches! Oh, les sales boches!_" Whereupon an Austrian girl pushed her from behind, and she crashed down into a party of Francophile young Rumanians who instantly began to throw everything within reach at a party of Germanophile young Rumanians. Glasses were shivered; fairy lamps were pulled out of the trees and hurtled through the air like Roman candles; somebody snatched a violin from the orchestra and broke it on the head of his assailant; somebody else climbed on the stage and made a speech in Rumanian, calling upon the country to intervene on behalf of the Entente, until two pro-Germans seized him and flung him down on top of the melancholy dotard who played the double-bass; the manager and the waiters rushed into the street to find the police; everybody argued with everybody else. "_Tu dis que je suis boche, moi? M--e pour toi!_" "La ferme! La ferme! Espionne! Type infecte!" "_Moi, je suis roumaine. Si tu dis que je suis hongroise, je dis que t'es une salope. Tu m'entends?_" "_Oh, la vache! Elle m'a piquée!_" "_Elle a bien fait! Elle a bien fait!_" Some French girls began to sing: "_Les voyez-vous? Les hussards! Les dragons! La gar-rrde! Glorieux fous_...." and a very shrill little soprano who was probably a German, but declared she was a Dane, sang: "It's a larway to Tipperary, It's a larway to go, It's a larway to Tipperary, It's a la-a-way to go! Gooba, Piccadilli, Farwa lar-sa sca-aa! It's a lar-lar-way to Tipperary Ba-ma-ha's ra-tha." After which somebody hit her on the nose with a vanilla ice: then the police came in and quieted the uproar by arresting several people on the outskirts of the riot.