Fifteen years have now gone by since Fritz and Katrina paid their visit
to the Wartburg and heard among others the story of Martin Luther. To
Fritz, especially, they had been restless years.
From the day when he bade farewell to his old home and the friends
up at the castle to go and live at Grünwald, Fritz had been able to
gratify every wish. In fact, with a fortune at his command, he had
in full measure the privileges of a rich man’s son. The count, being
ambitious for him, had, until his death, been always ready to satisfy
Fritz’s every want; but it was with a peculiar fervour that the
nobleman urged Fritz toward the satisfaction of that one great craving
of his life--the desire for wisdom. It was a desire which never gave
Fritz any rest, and seemed only to increase in keenness as it was fed.
After having gone to a preparatory school, Fritz entered the
university, from which he bore away distinguished honours; and the
years that followed were spent in travel. To the very ends of the
earth he went in search of that treasure which from his boyhood he had
determined to discover. Sometimes reports would reach his friends at
Eisenach of wonderful researches made by him in Egypt and the Holy
Land among the buried relics of an ancient grandeur. As a traveller
and a scholar, his fame soon spread abroad, and, even surpassing his
father’s cherished wish, the name of Fritz Albrecht came to be known
far beyond the fatherland.
In the first years after he went to live at Grünwald, Fritz had come
back very often to see his friends at the Wartburg. On these occasions
he would stop at Eisenach and have Gesta to open the old home that he
might see how things were going there. Then when he went away, he would
always press a gold piece into Gesta’s withered palm, and beg her to
deny herself no comfort. Unable to speak, the good creature could
only sob her gratitude. But as the years went by, and his life took on
other and larger possibilities, those simpler interests receded to the
background; until, finally, Katrina realized that her old playmate had
passed on and away from her.
In comparison with Fritz’s life Katrina’s life may have seemed even
commonplace. There was the same daily round of simple duties within the
home; but they were duties lovingly performed. To Katrina’s education,
though, as she went through the years of girlhood, much care was
given, and in this, her friend with the silver cross had no little
part. For not only had letters come often from over the sea to the
“castlemaiden,” as the lady called her still, but from time to time
there had also come boxes containing books for her to read and ponder.
And from these books, as well as from the letters, Katrina had gleaned
many an inspiration for her life.
But it was from yet another source that Katrina gained ideals which
were even nobler and better still--and that was from the Rose-bush
growing near the castle gates. Here she would bring her work, or a
book, and sit during many a cherished hour, while she listened to the
stories of noble men and women or felt its silent sympathy. And when
at times vain longings would fill her heart for a life that was less
narrow, or more glittering, than her own, she would also come to seek
comfort from the Rose-bush, and it always soothed her.
Then how often, too, as the days went by, could Katrina, her hands
filled with the fragrant crimson blossoms, be seen on her way down to
Eisenach to some one who was ill or in distress. In fact, so many were
her deeds of loving-kindness that the people there in the shadow, as
it were, of the old castle which had once known the saintly presence
had come to call her their Saint Elizabeth. At the very sight of her,
every one felt a sense of joy; for not only did they realize the beauty
of her character, but in face and form as well she seemed to grow more
beautiful every day.
“Our Katrina will not stay in the home nest very long, I fear,” said
Frieda one evening, as she and Rudolf talked together.
But the years went by, and Katrina showed no disposition to encourage
any who would have rejoiced to be her suitor. Her every thought seemed
to be for others rather than herself, and each day was marked by some
unselfish service.
In all that she accomplished there was one purpose which seemed ever
uppermost with Katrina,--it was to awaken in the dreary or sordid
toiler the heart of joy. Many a time after she had left the shop of
some humble craftsman, with a few appreciative or buoyant words, he
might be heard singing as he worked with lighter heart and swifter
hands. So when a fair, or exhibition, of the different industries
became an annual feature in the little town, Katrina was one of the
most zealous workers for its success. In order to arouse an interest,
prizes were offered for the best results in the different lines, and
the competition was always keen; while it brought together a wonderful
array of effort.
People came from a distance of many miles to visit the fair, or
market, as they called it. A value had been set upon even the humblest
hand-work, and that was an incentive to better things.
It was in the month of June that the building which had been erected in
the market-place began to take on an air of bustle and activity. Never
had there been so many visitors in Eisenach, and never had the little
town seemed half so prosperous. The fair was at the height of its
success, when one day there came in for exhibition a case of toys, such
toys as few of the present generation had ever seen in Eisenach. Many
had gathered about the booth to see this new exhibit, when a lady, who
had just been handed from a stately coach by an attendant, was heard to
say:
“They must have been the work of Conrad Albrecht. I am glad to find
them here. Whenever I made a visit to the Fatherland, years ago, I
used to buy his toys and take them to my children; but until now I
had supposed he did not make them any more. These will delight my
grandchildren.”
And saying this, the speaker selected a number of the playthings, which
were taken to her carriage; while those standing near looked on with
interest. They recognized this benevolent-looking woman, so simple,
yet impressing her dignity on all within her presence, as no less a
personage than England’s Queen. Though far removed, Victoria still
loved her Fatherland, often returning to the old home not many miles
from Eisenach, and it was in those visits that she had come to know the
work of Conrad Albrecht’s hands.
All who had seen them declared that these toys which gave evidence of
unusual skill were plainly entitled to the prize, whereupon search was
made for the one who sent them. Only three of the five judges were made
aware of the name of the exhibitor to whom the prize was given, and
they were bound to secrecy.
“Who was the maker of these toys?”
This was the question asked on every side, and the answer came that
they must be the work of some one elsewhere; for Eisenach, they said,
had known only one who could have made such toys, and he, Conrad
Albrecht, had been dead for fifteen years.