Just about the time when Fritzl and Tzandi waked, that Christmas
morning, two little children within the palace at Schönbrunn were
welcoming the Christ Child’s Day.
One, a boy of eleven, known throughout Austria-Hungary as “the little
lame Prince,” was the Archduke Maximilian. The other, a girl of nine,
was the Archduchess Elizabeth. But to each other, and the imperial
family at Vienna, they were known as “Max” and “Betty.”
[Illustration]
Max had been the first to waken; but for a time he laid very still,
cuddled within the soft blankets of his bed, his young heart beating
happily, at the thought of what the day was to bring to him. Ever
since he was born, the little Prince had been crippled. But for nearly
two years, the famous surgeon of the Kinderspitzel of Vienna had been
treating him; and this Christmas Day he was to walk, for the first time
in his life. And all the great empire of Austria-Hungary was waiting
for the test, almost as eagerly as he. For when the good Emperor, his
grandfather, should cease to reign, Max would be “Unser Kaiser” to
millions of people.
Suddenly there came a knock at the door.
“Merry Christmas, and come in, Betty!” called Max excitedly.
And a small girl, crying as excitedly, “Merry Christmas, Maxchen, and
I knew perfectly well you’d say it first!” pushed open the door, and
running across the room, threw herself down by Maxchen’s bed, flinging
her soft arms around her brother’s neck.
“Oh, Betty, Betty,” he cried, as he nestled against her, “it seems
almost too good to be true! Only it must come true, mustn’t it,
Christmas Day?”
“’Course it must,” agreed Betty stoutly; “why, didn’t the Herr Doctor
tell you it would come true, this very day?”
“Yes,” breathed Max softly.
“And there’s nothing in the world, the Herr Doctor doesn’t know,”
declared Betty; “and I love him.”
“So do I,” cried Max; “almost as much as Grandpapa Franzchen!” For by
that name, born of affection, was the august Emperor of Austria-Hungary
known to his grandchildren.
“Betty,” the boy cried abruptly, “the very first race we’ll run will be
from there,” pointing to the “Gloriette,” shining like a jewel in the
sunrise light,--“straight to the edge of the lily pond. And--and--I’ll
beat you, you little girl!”
“Can’t!” answered Betty, stretching out her slim straight legs, and
looking at them with confidence.
“Can!” Max cried delightedly. And then they both laughed, and cuddled
together more closely.
“Do you remember,” Max went on, “that boy we watched, in the rose
garden, running races with his dog, one day last summer? The boy with a
violin under his arm?”
Yes, Betty remembered.
“My, how he ran!” sighed Max, “and we called and called to him, and
finally made ‘Goggles’” (this the most dignified of the tutors of the
Prince) “go after him. But of course he couldn’t run fast enough, and
the boy got quite away. I wish I could find that boy. Betty,” rising on
one elbow, “when I walk, I will! I do so want that boy and that dog!”
“Why,” laughed matter-of-fact Betty, “you’ve heaps of boys to play
with, and heaps of dogs!”
“But not one boy who can play the violin. And not one dog that can
dance.”
“Well, that dog was a dear,” Betty agreed cordially; “and--why,
Maxchen,” she went on, “we’ll ask Grandpapa Franzchen to get the boy
and the dog for us, this very Christmas Day. We’ll--” But the little
maid’s blithe voice was interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the
corridor. The door opened softly, “His Majesty the Emperor and the Herr
Doctor,” was solemnly announced. And into the sunlit room, two stately
men came.
We know quite well how “Unser Franz” looked. We saw him, that very
morning, speaking kindly to Fritzl and Tzandi, at the Riesenthor.
“Merry Christmas--Merry Christmas, dear Grandpapa Franzchen and dear
Herr Doctor!” cried the children. And Betty slipped quickly to the
floor, and curtsied demurely to the Emperor.
“Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas!” returned the Emperor and Doctor
gaily, who had wisely given the children the longed-for chance to say
it first.
Then the old Kaiser caught Betty up in his arms, and kissed her
forehead. “Now God bless thee, Liebchen,” he said, seating himself in
the great chair beside the bed, and bending over and kissing Max on
both his cheeks. Then, with an arm around each grandchild, he looked up
at the Herr Doctor, standing straight and tall beside him.
A very king of men was the Herr Doctor, with stalwart shoulders, and
kindly grave eyes, the color of the sea, when the sky is clouded.
“Well, your Highness,” he said, in a voice as tender as his eyes, “all
ready to walk to-night?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Max bravely, but nestling closer against his
grandfather.
Then the Herr Doctor looked down into the anxious face of the old
Emperor.
“Your Majesty need have no fear of the result of to-night’s test,” he
said softly, “the little lad will walk.”
“And Grandpapachen,” cried Betty, breaking into the solemn pause which
followed, “he’s going to run races with the boy and the dog! The boy
with the fiddle, and the dog that can dance, you know,” she explained
rapidly. “Why, Grandpapa Franzchen,” stroking his white hair with her
dimpled hand, “Max wants that boy and that dog, _so!_ Please get them
for him, dear Grandpapa Emperor!”
When Betty commenced her story of the races to be run with a boy who
carried a violin, and a little dog that could dance, a strange look had
flashed into the Emperor’s eyes. This deepened to one of amazement, and
then his whole face glowed with the thought within his heart.
It seemed that he was going to be able to give even more pleasure than
he had hoped.
“Well, Maxchen,” he laughed, “thou hast set thy grandfather a hard
task! To find, in his great city of Vienna, a boy who plays the fiddle
and who has a dog that dances! But he will try, Liebchen,” patting
his grandson’s head softly. “Would you know them, should you see them
again, little ones?” he cried, quite as excited now as the children.
“Why, of course we would,” laughed Betty, for herself and Max too:
“there are only--_they_--you know, Grandpapa dear!”
“I will commence to search for them this moment,” announced the Emperor
gaily, lifting Betty to the floor and rising from his chair, “and the
Herr Doctor shall help me! But what wilt thou do with them, beside run
races, should I find them for thee?” he asked Max.
“I will make them happy,” said the little lame Prince.
As the two men were leaving the room, the Herr Doctor turned. “Your
Highness,” he said, “where will you go first, when you walk to-night?”
“To my Emperor,” answered the boy proudly, raising one little hand in
salute.