Until once more the joy-bells pealed out on the blessed Easter morning.
The city was full of festivals. The rich were in their richest holiday raiment, and few of the poor were so poor as not to have some sign of festivity in their humble dress and on their frugal tables.
Mother Magdalis was surprised by finding at her bedside a new dress such as befitted a good burgher's daughter, sent secretly the night before from Ursula by Hans and Gottlieb, with a pair of enchanting new crimson shoes for little Lenichen, which all but over-balanced the little maiden altogether with the new sense of possessing something which must be a wonder and a delight to all beholders.
The archduke and the beautiful Italian archduchess had arrived the night before, and were to go in stately procession to the Cathedral. And Gottlieb was to sing in the choir, and afterwards, on the Monday, to sing an Easter greeting for the archduchess at the banquet in the great town-hall.
The mother's heart trembled with some anxiety for the child.
But the boy's was only trembling with the great longing to be allowed to sing once more his Hosannas to the blessed Saviour, among the children.
It was given him.
At first the eager voice trembled for joy, in the verse he had to sing alone, and the choir-master's brows were knitted with anxiety. But it cleared and steadied in a moment, and soared with a fulness and freedom none had ever heard in it before, filling the arches of the Cathedral and the hearts of all.
And the beautiful archduchess bent over to see the child, and her soft, dark eyes were fixed on his face, as he sang, until they filled with tears; and, afterwards, she asked who the mother of that little angel was.
But the child's eyes were fixed on nothing earthly, and his heart was listening for another voice—the Voice all who listen for it shall surely hear.