"Here is what remains of the palace of the House of Babenberg, which Duke Heinrich built," said Herr Müller; "and here before it you see the Tiefe-graben, or deep moat, which amply protected the stronghold from attack. And there," he continued, moving as he spoke toward the building, "stands the Schottenhof."
"The Schottenhof?" exclaimed Teresa, astonished. "Why is it called a Scottish palace in Austria?"
"Because it was originally built and occupied by some monks from Scotland in the year 1158, whom Duke Heinrich had asked to come and instruct the citizens, not only in religion, but in the educational arts, there being no schools in those days; all the teaching was done by the Holy Fathers. But later on, the Scottish monks were dispossessed by a German order of monks; yet the Hof still bears the name of its founders. And even to-day the Church owns all this most valuable property, right in the very heart of our city, which was given to them so many years ago."
"That's the first time I thought about the Hof being Scottish," admitted Ferdinand, between whom and Teresa there was much rivalry and jealousy as to the amount of knowledge possessed by each; but the lad was generous enough to admit his ignorance, because he did not wish to assume too superior airs before his guest.
"Here runs the tiny lane, the Schotten-gasse, which separates the Schottenhof from the smaller Molkerhof just across the land; and here are the ancient bastions which protected them; to-day, you notice, these same names are retained; the bastions are no longer required, but history preserves their memory in preserving their names, the Schotten-bastei and the Molker-bastei, now streets of the city of Vienna instead of bastions. But we have had quite enough of history," continued Herr Müller, "I am quite certain our little convent friend is tired."
"Oh, no indeed," spoke up Teresa. "At the convent we take long walks every day; and in the country at Linz, we do much walking, too; it does not tire me at all."
"But walking about city streets is quite different from country lanes, my girl," observed Herr Müller.
"Yes, but we do not have the interesting places to visit, nor the tales to hear, in the lanes," wisely answered the child.
"Well, then, if you are quite certain you are not too tired, we will walk home. We will go by the way of the Ring, here behind the Schottenhof; and we will walk over the old walls, which were erected in later years as the original city of Duke Heinrich grew. Of course, we have no use for these fortifications in these days, so we have changed them into a magnificent boulevard."
No one, not knowing the original use of the Ring, would ever have suspected the mission it had fulfilled; so broad and handsome was the avenue encircling what is called the Inner-Stadt (Inner City), planted with magnificent trees, and bubbling over with life, color and gayety.