And fell, a limp little heap, at the feet of “Unser Franz.”
CHAPTER III
Just about the time when Fritzl and Tzandi waked, that Christmas morning, two little children within the palace at Schönbrunn were welcoming the Christ Child’s Day.
One, a boy of eleven, known throughout Austria-Hungary as “the little lame Prince,” was the Archduke Maximilian. The other, a girl of nine, was the Archduchess Elizabeth. But to each other, and the imperial family at Vienna, they were known as “Max” and “Betty.”
Max had been the first to waken; but for a time he laid very still, cuddled within the soft blankets of his bed, his young heart beating happily, at the thought of what the day was to bring to him. Ever since he was born, the little Prince had been crippled. But for nearly two years, the famous surgeon of the Kinderspitzel of Vienna had been treating him; and this Christmas Day he was to walk, for the first time in his life. And all the great empire of Austria-Hungary was waiting for the test, almost as eagerly as he. For when the good Emperor, his grandfather, should cease to reign, Max would be “Unser Kaiser” to millions of people.
Suddenly there came a knock at the door.
“Merry Christmas, and come in, Betty!” called Max excitedly.
And a small girl, crying as excitedly, “Merry Christmas, Maxchen, and I knew perfectly well you’d say it first!” pushed open the door, and running across the room, threw herself down by Maxchen’s bed, flinging her soft arms around her brother’s neck.