When she was three months old, he dressed her in snowy white, and bore her to the baptismal font, where she received the name of Gretchen, though to the grandfather she was always "mein schönes kind" (my beautiful child).
A circle of golden curls played around her baby face, and the violet eyes of her mother shone clearly in the fair light of the morning, as she looked steadily into the face of the priest who took her in his arms and blessed her with the baptismal water which consecrated her "a child of God and an heir of heaven."
The old grandfather gazed wonderingly at the child, as in the softened light of the sunshine stealing through the cathedral windows she looked so like the rare picture of the divine Christ-child.
"She is even now a bird of Paradise," whispered tremblingly the old man, as he received the little one from the priest's hands. "The angel soul is looking out from her violet eyes, and heaven's blessed light falls like a halo of glory upon her golden curls."
With a shudder, the old man sunk away into the shadow until the sunshine had faded from her hair, and rocking her to and fro, while a master's hand sent rare, glorious music from the grand cathedral organ, he watched the violet eyes till they closed, and the rich brown lashes rested upon her fair baby cheeks. One little soft hand was tangled in the old man's beard, and the tone of her gentle breathing told him that his darling slept the pure, refreshing sleep of healthful infancy, and once more his heart was calm and happy.
Karl loved the beautiful child; but when he looked at her, and saw her mother's eyes reflected in the dewy light of hers, a deep sadness filled his heart, and often he turned quickly away to hide the glistening of his eyes, and drew his rough hand over his face to drive back the unshed tears.
"Poor little motherless thing," he would say: "If it was only a boy!" "Poor little daughter, ever too much you will need a mother's care." Then he would snatch up his hat and go out to the banks of the blue Rhine, where the body of the angel Chimlein rested. To the man, nothing is so dear as the pure, true woman of his heart.
Two summers had passed over the head of the little Gretchen, making her more charming than ever, with all the winsome ways of her innocent childhood.
The grandfather was becoming every day more infirm in body, and every day brought his mind nearer to the innocent child who was the darling of his heart. Nearer and nearer to heaven, the golden, he walked with faltering steps through the darkened vale of second childhood.