Although warned not to wander alone through the streets outside the
Judengasse, Albert’s curiosity got the better of him. No sooner was his
father gone to see the banker, to whom Albert was to be apprenticed,
than the boy left the tavern. He followed the long stream of people
toward the gate at the end of the Judengasse. There were three gates in
the enclosure, but this gate led to the Wollgraben, beyond which was the
Fair.
He rambled aimlessly staring around him. He was proceeding along the
banks of the Main, which was thronged with a thousand noisy traders,
small vessels of antiquated design slowly moving to the accompaniment of
the quaint cries of the steersmen. The tumult was deafening. Porters
with high loads on their heads crying at the jostling crowd to make way;
trundling bales, chests, caskets: yells of warning for the passersby to
stand back: quarreling, half-naked boatmen; scolding red-coated
officials, leaping from vessel to vessel on their tours of inspection:
rattling of chains, plunging of anchors . . .
Presently he stood before the Roemer, the old Senate house, from which
gaudy streamers were flying, its high gables bedecked with shields and
banners; all around laughing, guffawing, merry-making. For today
Frankfort was celebrating its independence once more, its independence
from the enemy.
Carried along with the jubilant throng he soon paused at the sight of a
curious procession. Mountebanks blowing trumpets, jugglers performing
deft tricks, fencing masters displaying their agility in mock duels, a
band marching and drumming and fifing, followed by girls clad in
fantastic colors—yellow and black and green astride long sticks in the
fashion of children playing horse, wiggling their high hips and heavy
legs in the manner of Spanish dancers. Then came a column of bareheaded,
barefooted chanting monks, wax tapers in the hands of some, while others
carried effigies and tall banners on which were painted bearded apostles
and smooth shaven saints, and great silver crucifixes against a
background of jet black drapery . . .
Suddenly there was a hush. The chanting of the monks ceased; the shrill
voices of the dancing girls died in the distance; the noises of the
merry-makers halted. Not a sound—nothing but the soft swinging of
censers. Hark! a silver bell tinkled. Instantly all were on their knees
with bowed heads.
Fear possessed Albert. Though accustomed to Catholic ceremonies from
childhood he would not kneel. And without looking to the right or left
he hurried back as fast as his legs could carry him to the high walls of
the Judengasse.