The following morning Fritz went early to the Wartburg. This, his last
day, he would spend with his little playmate. Some time before he
reached the castle, as he was walking up the hill, he caught sight of
Katrina standing in the courtyard.
She made a lovely picture dressed in white, with her pigeons all about
her; while in the background was the old, ivy-covered wall. Back
and forth her pets were swarming; some ate the grain she had just
scattered on the ground, while others preened themselves upon the brink
of the now dilapidated fountain.
But as Fritz drew near, and his footsteps sounded on the gravel, there
was a scurry and a rustle of wings; while very soon the birds were lost
to sight in their lofty retreat in the tower. Katrina, however, the
moment she spied Fritz coming, gave a little cry of pleasure, and ran
to the gates to meet him.
“I was sure that thou wouldst come,” she said, “and dost thou know,
Fritz, I could declare I heard thee walking here last evening, I know
thy step so well. But,” the little girl added, as she took her playmate
by the hand, “_mütterchen_ said it was only fancy, that of course you
wouldn’t be here at the castle without coming in to see us. I knew that
too, Fritz; so though I thought I heard thee passing the window twice,
I laughed at the very thought of thy going by just as if thou wert a
ghost.”
To this Fritz said not a word. For some reason he felt that he wished
to keep as a secret that which the Ivy told him; so, in consequence,
would say nothing about his twilight visit to the Wartburg.
“Fritz, Fritz!” Katrina suddenly exclaimed, and it seemed as though
a cloud had passed suddenly across the sun, so quick was the change
in Katrina’s face. “Is it true that thou art really going to leave
to-morrow?”
“Yes, Katrina, the count has written that he will send for me Thursday
morning. Thou knowest the promise my father made him. But at first the
count was too ill to send for me; in fact it was only the other day he
was told of my father’s death.”
There were tears in Katrina’s eyes.
“What am I going to do, Fritz? I sha’n’t have any one at all to play
with. Dost thou really want to go away and leave me?”
“No, no, little sister; but sometimes it falls to our lot to do things
that we don’t quite wish to do. Thou knowest what duty is, Katrina?”
“Yes,” replied the little girl, “_mütterchen_ has told me that I must
always do my duty, no matter how disagreeable the task may be.”
As she spoke, there came into the sweet childish face the promise of a
nobility that would know so well how to translate duty into happiness;
while, as for Fritz, he was one day to learn that ambition sometimes
appears at our gates disguised as duty, and in our blindness we bid him
enter.
“Is thy father here, Katrina?” Fritz asked a moment later. “Ah, yes,”
he added before Katrina had time to answer, “there he is, over near the
belfry; he and Hans are talking.”
“So thou hast come, Fritz, to claim the promise I made thee yesterday
in Eisenach;” and, as he spoke, Rudolf came over to where the children
stood. “I told thee, I remember, that as thou art going away so soon, I
would give thee and the _mädchen_ here a glimpse into the castle.”
Both Fritz and Katrina were delighted, and the latter, catching one of
her father’s hands, kissed it rapturously.
“It will have to be only a little visit, though, as I’ll be very busy
later in the morning, so where shall we begin?”
“This is to be your treat, Herr Rudolf,” Fritz replied; “so we’ll leave
the choice to you.”
“Well, then, suppose we begin out here with the rooms where Martin
Luther stayed when he was a prisoner at the Wartburg.”
“Yes, yes, show us Luther’s rooms!” and the two children took Rudolf by
either hand.
He led them across the courtyard, past the old stables now converted
into a brewery; on beyond the barbican, the south tower, and the
belfry, until they reached the Knight’s House, sacred with its memories
and traditions of Martin Luther.