ALL SAINTS
SUNDAY was always an interesting day, for there were many things to
do. The little American church near the Odeonsplatz was a homelike
place where once a week, at least, one could imagine himself at home,
so familiar was the service in one's own tongue, and here the family
generally went. After church it was the custom to promenade up and down
the Parada, and with the rest of the citizens to listen to the music of
the band which played upon the balcony of the Feldernhalle.
But there was one Sunday when the morning service was unattended by
any from _Pension_ Bauer, for all took their way to the cemetery. This
was the day of All Saints, and every grave, even the humblest, was
decorated, lights were set to burn, and the whole place looked like
a great garden of blossoms. There were many persons walking quietly
around, old women were stationed to watch the tall candles or to
replenish the swinging lamps.
"It is very solemn and very beautiful," said Nan to Dr. Woods, with
whom she was walking. "I never imagined anything quite like this, but I
think it is a beautiful custom."
"The royal tombs are decorated to-day, too," said Dr. Woods. "We ought
to go to St. Michael's, for in the crypt there King Ludwig II and a
number of others are buried. A great many persons visit the place every
year, for this is the only day upon which the place is opened to the
public. If you all are not too tired we might go there from here."
Nan agreed and they passed on to where Jean and Jack were standing
whispering together.
"Look, Nan," said Jack, "at that little girl over there. She is putting
that one little candle and that tiny bunch of flowers on a grave.
She looks so poor. I wonder whose grave it is? I hope it is not her
mother's."
"See, she is coming away," said Nan. "Don't watch her so closely, dear;
it doesn't seem kind."
The two children turned quickly away, but could not forbear watching
the little girl as she slowly passed out the gate.
"I wish I knew about her," said Jack following the departing figure
with sympathetic glances.
"Let's go, Nan," said Jean; "it is so sad here."
"I don't think you twinnies ought to have come," Nan told them.
"Oh, yes, we ought. We like the flowers and the lights, but we don't
like little girls like that to be so poor as not to have more flowers
and candles," Jack returned.
They now came up to the rest of the party and proposed the walk to see
the royal tombs, but Mrs. Corner decided that she was too tired to go
and, therefore, the twins went home with her while the others continued
to the church. Here a long procession of persons passed steadily in
and out of the crypt, where masses of flowers and brilliant lights
surrounded the tombs of dead royalty.
"I'd like to know more about King Ludwig II," said Nan to her
companion. "The Bavarian succession is so mixed up in my mind I never
do get it straight."
"There is a little history of Bavaria that I saw somewhere. I shall
be glad to bring it to you, if you would care to look it over. You
will find this a most interesting kingdom, full of romance as well as
of solid fact. The unfortunate Ludwig II was son of Maximilian II and
grandson of Ludwig I. The present Prince Regent is a son of Ludwig I
and a brother of Maximilian II. He is, therefore, uncle of Ludwig II
and of the poor mad king Otto, the actual king."
"I will write that all down, and then I can remember it better,"
said Nan. This she proceeded to do. "I should like very much to see
the history, thank you, and get all these Ludwigs and Maximilians
straightened out. It will make the places named after them so much more
interesting. I did get a sort of half idea from all those wonderful
castles we have been making trips to see, but I am not yet quite exact."
"I think you will like the legend called 'Weibtreue' which tells of an
event away back in the twelfth century."
"Tell me it."
"The story goes that Welf VI with his wife and followers were besieged
by Konrad, the Hohenstaufen. After a long time they said they would
yield, but Konrad was so angry at the long resistance that he declared
that every man should be killed, though he consented to allow the women
to go out first, each being allowed to take with her the thing she
valued the most. Finally when the city gates were flung open out came a
long train of women, and what do you think they had on their backs?"
Nan's eyes were bright as stars. She loved this sort of legend. "What?"
she asked.
"The Countess Ida, Welf's wife, came first and on her back she carried
her husband. Each of the women following carried either a husband,
father, lover, son or brother."
"Good!" Nan's hands came together. "And what did Konrad do?"
"His soldiers were furious at the trick, but Konrad himself was so
struck by the women's devotion that he forgave them every one."
Nan laughed. "Now I know why the women of Germany have such mighty
strong backs. They began their training away back in the twelfth
century and evidently have kept it up ever since, for they carry such
loads as I never saw."
Dr. Paul laughed, and the two, having passed through the Karlsthor
and up the wide Lenbach-platz, waited for the others who had lagged a
little behind.
Mrs. Hoyt's sitting-room was more of a rendezvous on a rainy Sunday
afternoon than at any other time, and when the chill mists had resolved
themselves into a persistent drizzle, the young people gathered in the
cheery place to forget outside conditions and to get rid of the blues.
Here, after dinner, Nan found Mary Lee and Jo with the Hoyt family and
two or three of Maurice's schoolfellows. Mrs. Hoyt was dispensing
toasted buns, Lebkücken and chocolate, and it was the coziest of
companies.
"Just in time," Mrs. Hoyt told her. "Sit right down wherever you can
find a place, Nan. We have none too many chairs, as you see."
Maurice jumped to his feet and gave Nan his place while he took a
position on the floor by Jo, who was seated on a sofa cushion by the
window.
"This is nice," said Nan in a satisfied tone. "It is so much like home,
and one does get tired of foreign doings once in a while."
"I thought we'd better stay in this drizzly afternoon," remarked Mrs.
Hoyt. "Juliet, for one, should not go out, for she has already taken
cold."
"If she has taken cold give her quinine; if she has taken anything
else, give her thirty days," advised Maurice, between bites of
Lebkücken. And of course everybody laughed, as he meant they should.
"This is the best Lebkücken I ever ate," said Nan. "It is much better
than any we have had."
"That is because it is the real Nuremburg article," Mrs. Hoyt told her.
"There is none quite so good. Have you been to Nuremburg, Nan?"
"No, but perhaps we shall go before it gets too cold. Aunt Helen was
speaking of it only yesterday. I want so much to see the Hans Sachs
house, the old streets and the Burg."
"There is really a great deal to see there, and it is a convenient
point from which to go to Rothenburg, which, if anything, is even more
picturesque. If you like an old mediæval town you will have it there."
"Then I hope we can go to both places. I particularly want to see
Nuremburg on account of its being the scene of the Meistersinger. I
love that street scene, and I hope the real thing looks just like it,"
replied Nan, who by this time had heard several operas.
"It is quite exact," Mrs. Hoyt told her. "Boys, stop demolishing those
cushions; this is not a dormitory for a pillow fight. Do be sensible."
"We would be if we could, Mrs. Hoyt," replied Henry Olcott, whom the
boys dubbed Heinz, as a German contraction of Heinrich.
"I don't see what Mr. Mann does with such a lot of animal spirits,"
continued Mrs. Hoyt.
"There are fifty-seven varieties," remarked Jo, "and they are all
pickles."
"Not all, please, Miss Jo," said Henry prostrating himself at Jo's
feet. "Thy servant is a baked bean with tomato sauce; try Heinz."
"I can vouch for the sauce," retorted Jo. "Get up, silly, I am not a
heathen idol."
Just as Henry was rising to make a dignified salaam, one of the other
boys gave him a push and down he went again on his knees, to the
detriment of his new trousers.
"I say, this is too much rough-house," exclaimed Henry. "Mrs. Hoyt,
call these fellows to order."
"Come, boys," cried Mrs. Hoyt, "you are getting too obstreperous. We
shall have to sing hymns to sober you down."
In a few minutes they were all standing at the piano singing "Onward
Christian Soldiers" with all the vim their youthful voices possessed,
Nan accompanying. They sang for an hour, the boys coming out strong on
the hymn of the St. Andrew's brotherhood, and all those with any sort
of martial spirit. As a fitting close, Mrs. Hoyt selected "For all the
saints who from their labors rest," since this was All Saints day.
The lads had entirely quieted down by the time this was ended, and Dick
Langham, the most exuberant of them all, had actual tears in his eyes
as he whispered to Mrs. Hoyt at parting, "I just wish my mother were
here, Mrs Hoyt; I'd like to play baby and get in her lap. Those old
hymns took me right back home."
"Come to us whenever you want to be mothered," Mrs. Hoyt responded. "I
won't promise to take you on my lap, Dick, but I will do my best to
cheer you up."
"Thank you, I'll come," said Dick, bending low and kissing her hand.
The boys trooped out as darkness settled down on the outer world.
The electric lights showed shining reflections on the wet street.
Maximilianplatz looked quiet and empty. The "honk-honk" of an
automobile once in a while speeding along, and the noise of a passing
tram-car alone interrupted the quiet till the bells of the Frauenkirche
pealed out the angelus.
The rain continued with greater force the next day, and Jean, who had
taken cold through staying too long in the cemetery, was kept at home
from school. She found it rather dreary, for there were none of the
accustomed pets which at home helped to beguile the hours, nor had she
her favorite story-books. She was usually a patient little body and
able to amuse herself, but to-day time hung heavily and she looked many
times at the clock, saying mournfully, "It is such a long morning; I
wish Jack would come. What can I do, mother, to pass away the time?"
At last having exhausted all her resources, Mrs. Corner was obliged to
think up some new entertainment. "You can stand there by the window,"
she said, "and tell me what things you see that you don't see at home."
This struck Jean's fancy at once and she stationed herself where she
could look up and down the street. "I see four _Dienst_--do you say
_mannen_?"
"No, I think it would be _Dienstmänner_."
"Then I see four _Dienstmänner_ with red caps on."
"That is one thing. Write it down. Here is a paper and pencil."
"_Dienstmänner_ on corner," wrote Jean. "I see two soldiers not a bit
like ours."
"That makes two things."
"And a man wearing a cloak, a man on a wheel, and the cloak flies out
behind in the funniest way. Nobody wears cloaks at home and all the
men, women and children do here." She wrote this down carefully and
then looked out again.
"What do you see, Sister Anne?" asked her mother after a while.
"I didn't see anything creer for a few minutes, but now I see
something: the man and the dog pulling the cart together. That will be
a fine thing to write down. Now I see two of those great big horses Nan
likes so much; they are pulling a long wagon piled up with beer kegs,
and there's another horse harnessed to one side the pole like you were
talking about the other day. That is crite different from the things
they do at home. Oh, and there is an old woman with a load of wood on
her back. She carries it in a sort of rack. It looks like a lot for
such an old woman to carry; she is all bent over with the weight of it."
"That you would scarcely see at home."
Jean was silent for a time. "There are a great many dogs," she said
after a while, "_dachshunds_ more than any other kind; but those you
see at home, though not so many. I reckon I won't put them down. Now
I see something," she began after a pause. "It is the woman that
turns the switch there by the car track; she has that funny hat on,
and a cloak. There goes a man and a little boy and both are dressed
differently from any one we see at home. The man has on a _Jäger_
costume, and I suppose the little boy's is meant to be the same. He has
black velvet trousers embroidered with green, and a little jacket. His
stockings come below the knees so the knees are bare. He has a hat on
with a long feather sticking up in the back, and some _edelweiss_ at
the side." She wrote this all down carefully and surveyed her work with
pride. "I think that is a great deal to see," she told her mother,
"and I suppose if I stayed long enough I would see crauntities of
other things. I am going to take this home with me and show it to my
friends." She watched for some time, but saw nothing more of unusual
interest.
"Suppose we vary it a little," said her mother, seeing the amusement
was beginning to lose its zest. "See how many things you know the
German names of; that will be an excellent exercise, and will be an
interesting way of studying."
Jean found that she knew much more than she supposed, though she did
not always know how to spell the words, and soon became rather weary
of looking them up in the dictionary, but she had really passed a long
time at the window, and was relieved to find that very soon it would be
time for Jack to come in. So she sat down to watch for her.
But Jack seemed unusually late, and Jean became actually impatient
before she saw the little figure in red coat skipping across the street
with her Aunt Helen, who had gone to the school for her. Jack came in
with her usual impetuosity. She carried a small package, and this she
thrust into Jean's hand. "It is for you," she said. "We stopped to get
it, and that is why we were so late. We got it at that lovely toy shop
on the Karlsplatz."
The windows of the toy shops were a never failing source of
entertainment to even the older girls, for they held miracles of
ingenuity in the way of toys. To Jack and Jean it seemed that such a
kitchen as one window displayed, or such a wedding-party as another
showed, it would be the height of bliss to possess. Jean especially
admired the tiny dishes which contained make-believe articles of food
of every kind and description, all so natural that it seemed hard to
believe they were not good to eat. Jack liked the kitchen with its
array of cooking utensils, its dust-pan and brush, and its basket of
marketing which stood ready for the cook's attention.
Jean opened her package with pleased anticipation on her face, and
found a pretty little doll and two of the tiny plates of make-believe
food. The doll was one she had admired the last time she and Jack had
stood before the shop-window. "It is a darling," she said, "and I just
love the little dishes. Did you buy them yourself, Jack, with your own
money? It was lovely of you, if you did."
"I bought the doll and Aunt Helen the dishes. Oh, Jean, what do you
think we did? We stopped at the Kiosk on our way home and Aunt Helen
bought tickets for the loveliest fairy play that we are all going
to next week. It is for children and it is called 'The Princess
Herzlieb'; that means the Princess Heartlove. Isn't it a lovely name?"
"It is lovely and I do hope I can go," returned Jean ecstatically. She
loved fairy stories above everything.
"Of course you can go. It isn't for about ten days, and you are not
really ill, you know."
"I'm sort of ill," said Jean putting on a lackadaisical expression;
"mother thought I had fever last night." It would never do to have her
condition underrated, of course.
"Well, you will surely be well in ten days."
Jean admitted that she might be well by that time, and after deciding
to call the doll Princess Herzlieb, the two went off together to play.
"I saw that little girl again this morning," Jack remarked when they
were established in a corner. "The little girl we saw yesterday in the
cemetery, the poor little girl."
"Oh, and did you speak to her?"
"No, I only smiled. I am thinking, Jean, that it would be nice to do
something for her at Christmas. We have always done something for
somebody then, you know."
"But you don't know where she lives nor anything about her."
"No, but maybe I shall see her again. I will watch for her. I saw her
this morning as I was going to school."
"What was she doing? Just walking along?"
"She was talking to the woman who turns the switch near our school."
"Then maybe the woman would know."
"I thought of that, and if we don't see the little girl again before
Christmas we might ask the woman or get some one else to do it. I know
Nan would."
"Did she look very poor?" asked Jean trying to settle the doll before a
table of books she had built.
"Poorer than ever, for she hadn't her Sunday clothes on."
"Maybe mother will let us give her some of our things."
"Maybe she will. I don't suppose she will have any Christmas tree, do
you?"
"I don't suppose she will."
"I heard Mrs. Hoyt say that everybody does have a tree in Germany."
"Everybody?"
"Oh, I suppose there are some who are too poor. Maybe the switch woman
is the little girl's mother, and it was her father she was putting the
candle and flowers for."
"I am going to ask her when we know her."
"Oh, Jean!"
"Yes, I am. I don't think it would be anything at all. Jack, we ought
to be saving up for Christmas, and here you've been spending money for
me."
"Because you had to stay in and have a stupid time." There was nothing
worse to Jack than to be deprived of her time out-of-doors.
"It wasn't very stupid. Mother made up some nice creer plays. I'll show
you what I did." She produced her paper and informed her sister that
she intended to add to her list of unusual things and to play the same
play on rainy days in every new city she chanced to visit.
Jack quite approved of the play, and at first wanted to copy the paper,
but finally decided that she would rather pick out the things herself.
"I think I will get a little blank book," she said, "and then I can
keep them all together."
Jean thought this a good plan, and they concluded that some of their
next allowance should be spent in this way.
By this time it was getting too dark to continue their play, and the
Princess Herzlieb had finished her meal so they bore her into the
sitting-room, where Nan had just finished practicing, and where Jo and
Mary Lee were struggling over their German grammar.
[Illustration: CHAPTER XIII
THE FAIRY PLAY AND ITS CONSEQUENCES]