“They are for the state salon, Fräulein Gretchen,” he replied, and hurried on.
For the state salon! I ran round to the side of the grand entrance. There were soldiers putting up banners in the hall; others helping to carry furniture up stairs; carpenters with ladders; women with brooms and brushes; and Corporal Fritz bustling hither and thither, giving orders, and seeing after everything.
“But Corporal Fritz!” I exclaimed, “what are all these people about?”
“We are preparing the state apartments, dear little Fräulein,” replied Corporal Fritz, rubbing his hands with an air of great enjoyment.
“But why? For whom?”
“For whom? Why, for the King, to be sure”; and Corporal Fritz clapped his hand to the side of his hat like a loyal soldier. “Don't you know, dear little Fräulein, that His Majesty sleeps here to-night, on his way to Ehrenbreitstein?”
This was news indeed! I ran up stairs—I was all excitement—I got in everybody's way—I tormented everybody with questions. I saw the table being laid in the grand salon where the King was to sup, and the bedstead being put up in the little salon where he was to sleep, and the ante-room being prepared for his officers. All was being made ready as rapidly, and decorated as tastefully, as the scanty resources of the Château would permit. I recognised much of the furniture from the attics above, and this, faded though it was, being helped out with flowers, flags, and greenery, made the great echoing rooms look gay and habitable.
By and by, my father came round to see how the work was going on, and finding me in the midst of it, took me by the hand and led me away.
“You are not wanted here, my little Gretchen,” he said; “and, indeed, all the world is so busy to-day that I scarcely know what to do with thee.”
“Take me to Monsieur Maurice!” I said, coaxingly.