“And now,” said “Unser Franz” softly, “play thou that song which neither thou nor these other little orphaned ones ever heard. The song that mothers sing.”
Again Fritzl played: and the sound was like the ripple of quiet waters, like the rustle of rain-drenched poplar leaves, like the cadence of a woman’s voice, hushing her little child to sleep upon her breast.
Again the Emperor closed his eyes, and saw his mother’s face, and heard the song his beautiful wife used to sing to their only son, long dead.
Then, brushing the tears from his eyes, he cried cheerily to Fritzl: “Play thou the ‘Kaiser Hymn!’ And then,” kissing the forehead of the boy beside him, “the Prince must rest.”
Fritzl drew himself to his tallest, tucked his violin more firmly under his chin, and to its measures sang in his clear young voice, the other children joining eagerly,—
“Gott erhalte, Gott beschütze, unsern Kaiser, unser Land!”
CHAPTER VI
In the “Blue Salon” of Schönbrunn, the imperial family awaited the coming of the Emperor and the Prince, talking together softly, not only of “Maxchen,” as they called him lovingly, but of Fritzl, whose story had spread throughout the palace.
At last, the Hofmeister threw open impressively the east door of the salon, and across its threshold, and down the pathway made for him by his family, the Emperor passed slowly. Lightly holding his right hand, trying to walk demurely, but fluttering along like a white rosebud softly blown, was the little Archduchess Betty. Tightly clinging to his left hand, walked a boy, holding a violin. Behind, went the Archduke Max, in his wheeled chair, and beside him was the great surgeon.
At the dais, on one side of the salon, the three children and the Herr Doctor halted, while the Emperor mounted its steps, and bowing to those assembled, who curtsied and bowed deeply in return, took his seat upon the golden throne.