atrina did remember what the voice had said. She recalled the grand, majestic tones in which it had spoken of the Wartburg.
“How little can you children realize, as you play your youthful games here in its very shadow, for how many ages this same castle has been watching the play, not only of children, but of men and women grown!”
“Oh, won’t you tell us something about those men and women?” cried the boy and girl together, and there was an eager look in both their faces. All fear had vanished from Katrina, who whispered to her playmate:
“Canst thou guess, dear Fritz, whose voice it is that speaks?”
The boy shook his head.
“No, and that is the mystery of it all. It seems as though the one who spoke stood close beside me, and yet, I look all about, and can see no human being but thyself. Art thou playing me some prank, little one? But thou couldst not change thy sweet treble for deep bass.” And the boy laughed gaily at such a notion.
“Yes, my children,” the voice continued, in those same melodious accents like the notes of a distant organ, “I have seen many generations come and go. Little has taken place here without my knowledge.”
“If you’d only tell us some of the wonderful things you’ve seen, we’d be so happy,” Katrina said.
“Where shall I begin?” and the voice took on a reminiscent tone.