VI.
he next morning Katrina, in a blue cotton frock, her golden hair curled prettily, stood at the entrance to the castle. She was waiting there to see the lady who had spoken to her of Saint Elizabeth. Her father said the lady had told him she would come. In the child’s hands was a bunch of crimson roses gathered from the bush just outside the gates.
Katrina had not been there long when she heard the sound of wheels, and, looking down, she saw a carriage in which were two ladies and a gentleman, being driven slowly up the Wartburg hill. One of the ladies was she for whom Katrina had stood waiting, and the little girl felt her heart beat faster and faster, as she saw the three visitors step from the carriage and make their way up toward the castle.
“Ah, you are here again, my dear,” the lady said, as she came upon Katrina standing at the gate. “I am very glad to see you, but we shall not be satisfied to-day to leave you outside; you must come into the castle with us.”
But at that moment Katrina’s thoughts were upon her roses, and the purpose for which they had been gathered.
“These are for you, gnadige frau,” Katrina said, her voice trembling with a sudden childish fear, and she held out her lovely crimson offering toward the lady.
“The roses of Saint Elizabeth!” the lady murmured, as she took them in her hand. “How beautiful they are, and how good you are, my child, to give them to me.”
Again Katrina caught the name “Saint Elizabeth”; but why the lady should have called them “the roses of Saint Elizabeth” Katrina did not understand.
“You must come with me to the Elizabethan Gallery,” the lady went on to say. “I want to show you the pictures there. You will see these same beautiful crimson roses and learn a lesson from them.”