"On every hand someone had good to tell of her; how sweet she was, how patient, how she cheered the whole party and only laughed when she went up to her knees in mud, and declared that she was not thirsty when they could get no wine and the water was not fit to be drunk by anybody."
On one of the windows of the inn the landlady showed Hans some words the Queen had cut there with a diamond.
The old man repeated them to Bettina. The great poet, Goethe, had composed them:
"Who never ate his bread in sorrow,
Who never spent the darksome hours
Weeping and watching for the morrow,—
He knows ye not, ye heavenly powers."[1]
Bettina looked puzzled.
"And what does it mean, dear grandfather?"
The old man took her on his knee.
He held one little hand in his, and with his other he smoothed her soft hair.
"It means, dear child," said he very solemnly, "that we never can know the dear God well until, when all the world is fast asleep, we weep because of our own troubles. Then it is that it seems that we know best the dear God who, in the night, seems to comfort us. Do you understand, my Bettina?"
The little girl nodded.