As the two men were leaving the room, the Herr Doctor turned. “Your Highness,” he said, “where will you go first, when you walk to-night?”
“To my Emperor,” answered the boy proudly, raising one little hand in salute.
CHAPTER IV
Fritzl lifted his heavy eyelids, and looked about him, first languidly, then wonderingly. Gone were the Riesenthor and the Stephansplatz, and in place of them was a quiet room, lined with books and hung with tapestries.
But the friendly eyes into which his gazed were still those of “Santa Claus,” and the friendly hand which had touched his bare head on the steps of the Giant’s Gate, held one of his own. His violin lay on the couch beside him, while a warm little tongue licking his hand, and the subdued but joyous thumping of a stubby tail against the polished floor, told that Tzandi was near.
So, all his fears relieved, Fritzl looked up happily to the man who sat beside him, and asked: “Is this your house, dear Santa Claus?”
“I shall have to tell him,” said “Unser Franz” to himself. Then aloud: “Yes, little lad, it is my house. But it is the palace of Schönbrunn, and I am only the Kaiser.”
“Well, I s’pose you can’t help it,” sighed Fritzl, “but I truly thought you were Santa Claus. You look exactly like him!”
“Thank you,” replied the Emperor meekly, “and I will try to be like him. Indeed, he sent me to thee, little lad, so do not be disappointed. Another year thou shalt surely see him. I—your Emperor—promise thee. And now, what wilt thou choose first as a gift from him?”
“Something to eat for Tzandi and me,” leapt the swift reply.