[Illustration]
Christmas
in Austria
or
Fritzl’s Friends
[Illustration]
BY
FRANCES BARTLETT
ILLUSTRATED BY
BERTHA D. HOXIE
[Illustration]
BOSTON
DANA ESTES & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
_Copyright, 1910_
BY DANA ESTES & COMPANY
_All rights reserved_
CHRISTMAS IN AUSTRIA
_Electrotyped and Printed by
THE COLONIAL PRESS
C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, U.S.A._
CHRISTMAS IN AUSTRIA
OR
FRITZL’S FRIENDS
CHAPTER I
On the snow covered stones of the Stephansplatz of Vienna, Fritzl and
Tzandi danced joyously. The boy Fritzl because it was Christmas Eve.
Because also in the rapid motion his little body forgot how poorly
it was clad. While Tzandi, the terrier of “Schottisch” or Scottish
ancestry, danced because anything his small master did was pleasing
in his sight, and to be copied, if possible. Under Fritzl’s chin was
tucked a violin; and as the boy danced he played snatches of melody:
bits of Hungarian folk songs, and bars of the waltzes the Viennese
love, which set the feet of the passers-by moving more swiftly. But
not one kreutzer had been slipped into the boy’s hand, although it was
Christmas Eve.
Now Fritzl and Tzandi had no home. For only that Christmas Eve, the
cross old woman, of whose cellar they had made a pitiful refuge, had
warned them of what they might expect, if they came within her house
again. Indeed, neither Fritzl nor Tzandi could remember any home save
the cellar, and before that, the attic where they had lived with the
blind musician, who, dying, had left his cherished violin to the little
boy, whose heart and fingers were overflowing with music. “I tell you
what, Tzandi,” cried Fritzl, as toward midnight boy and dog sought
shelter in one doorway after another of the Stephansplatz, only to be
driven forth: “There’s a lovely corner by the Riesenthor! I forgot all
about it till now. Let’s go there, it’s the very place! ’Course Santa
Claus will go through that very door into the cathedral, and can hear
us when we tell him we’re waiting for him. Why, just as easy, Tzandi!”
So they crept into one of the sculptured niches of the “Giant’s Gate,”
where the great wings of the angels announcing the birth of the Christ
Child made an insufficient shelter. Suddenly the carved portals opened,
and one of the sacristans of the cathedral came forth, and looked about
the now almost deserted square.
Then like two little spirits, Fritzl and Tzandi slipped into the porch,
and from there into the solemn church.
Once Tzandi looked up anxiously into his master’s face, as if he
feared that Santa Claus might not find them there. “Of course he
will,” laughed Fritzl, answering the dog’s silent question; “Why, I’m
surprised you didn’t know he’ll be sure to come in here to say ‘Merry
Christmas’ to the Blessed Mother, first thing in the morning!”
Tzandi wagged his tail in relief, as if his last fear were quieted.
Like shadows, through the shadows of the vast nave passed boy and dog,
straight to the statue of the Blessed Mother. And upon the pavement at
her feet, safely hidden in the shelter made by the sculptures of her
shrine, they nestled closely against each other.
“Now isn’t this the very beautifullest place in all the world to be in
Christmas Eve?” asked Fritzl drowsily, dropping his head upon Tzandi’s
shaggy hide.
And Tzandi, already half asleep, wagged his tail blissfully.