“And what art thou going to be, when thou art a man?”
“A great violinist!” flashed the prompt answer.
“And so thou shalt be, little Fritzl, if I can help thee to it.”
When the boy had eaten the broth and bread, “Unser Franz” rose.
“Now stay thou here, child, and rest,” he said; “after I have wished my own dear little ones ‘Merry Christmas,’ I will come back to thee.”
But the Emperor returned sooner than Fritzl had expected.
“For what dost thou think our Prince wishes most, this Christmas morning?” he said excitedly, “why, a little boy who can play the fiddle, and a little dog that can dance. Come thou with me straight to him, Fritzchen!”
Tucking his violin carefully under his arm, the boy slipped one small hand into the hand of the Emperor, and followed by Tzandi, they went from the room.
At the end of a long corridor, the Emperor stopped before a closed door.