“Her life, even then, was one of pure unselfishness, and she seemed to have no fancy for the glitter of the court. She preferred to live in the simplest manner possible, and, often exchanging her apparel for that of the plainest sort, would go on her errands of mercy among the sick and the poor.
“One day, however, when Ludwig was entertaining some royal guests, he requested Elizabeth to attire herself ‘as became his wife and the lady of his love.’ So she, obedient to his wish, called her maids about her, and let them clothe her in her royal robes—‘her tunic of green and gold tissue, her tiara confining her dark tresses, and over her shoulders her embroidered mantle lined with ermine.’
“She beheld ... a wretched beggar, shivering with cold”
“Arrayed in this rich apparel, Elizabeth was about to cross one of the open courts when she beheld prostrate on the pavement a wretched beggar, shivering with cold and weakened by disease and hunger. She paused, and, obedient to her divine impulse which had ever gone out to the suffering, she removed from her shoulders her royal mantle and laid it upon the shivering beggar. Then she retired to her own apartment, wondering how she could excuse herself to her husband. At that moment Ludwig himself came in, and throwing herself into his arms, Elizabeth confessed what she had done.
“While her husband stood irresolute,” the Rose went on to say, “for he did not know whether to praise or blame her for the deed, her maid Gunta came into the chamber, the royal mantle on her arm.
“‘Madam,’ she said, ‘in passing the wardrobe I found this hanging in its place. Why has your Highness disarrayed yourself?’ And once more she clasped the royal mantle on the shoulders of her mistress.
“Then Ludwig and Elizabeth went forth, their hearts overflowing with gratitude and wonder. And when Elizabeth appeared before the guests, they arose and stood amazed at her beauty, which had never been so dazzling, ‘for a glory that was more than human seemed to play around her form and the jewels on her mantle sparkled with a celestial light.’
“Again, one day,” the sweet voice continued, “when Elizabeth was ministering to her poor at Eisenach, she found a little child cast out by the rest because he was a leper, and for this reason none would touch him or even come into his presence. She, moved with pity, took the loathsome little body in her arms, carried him up the steep hill to the castle, and laid him on her bed. All who were in the apartment hurried away, and reproaches were heaped upon her. Ludwig was absent at the time; but soon his horn was heard outside these gates, and hastening to him, his mother, the Princess Sophia, told him what Elizabeth had done. The husband, impatient on hearing that his wife had taken in her bed a little, leprous child, rushed into the room and snatched away the coverlid. ‘But behold, instead of the leper there lay a radiant infant with the features of the new-born Babe in Bethlehem; and while they stood amazed, the vision smiled and vanished from their sight.’