One afternoon she seated herself at her desk and started to write her last wish. Her father was absent, and she was unwatched.
"When I die," she wrote, "I beg you to bury me yonder beside the
Cathedral wall, under the rose-bush which I planted in my childhood.
Should Hans Le Fevre ever return, I beg you—" she paused, for just then
a song, at first soft, then louder, greeted her ears.
No star ever fell from heaven, no swallow ever flew more quickly than flew the maiden to her window, drawn by this call.
In trembling tones the final words of the song died away. Her paper, her ink, her pen, everything had fallen from her in her haste. As a captive bird, freed from its cage, flies forth joyously, so Marie bounded forth from her home. Faster and faster she went, never stopping till she reached the rose-bush. Breathless and with beating heart, she halted. There before her stood Hans Le Fevre.
They seated themselves upon the bench. Long, long they sat silently.
At last Hans said, "My dear, true girl, how pale you have grown. Are you ill?"
She shook her head. "No more, and I trust never again. But you stayed away much too long. Couldn't you have come back sooner?"
"No, my dear, I could not. Had I returned as a poor, struggling carver your father would have banished me from his door-step. We should then have seen each other again, only to be parted for the second time. So I waited till I had accomplished what I set out to do. I have traveled extensively and feasted my eyes on the beautiful works of art in great cities. I have studied under Dürer, and now my name is mentioned with honor as one of Dürer's pupils."
"Oh, Hans, do you really believe that that will soften my father's heart?" said Marie, anxiously.
"Yes, Marie, I don't think that he can fail me. I heard in Nürnberg that a new altar is to be built in this Cathedral, so I hastened here to compete. Should I be deemed worthy to do such a piece of work, what could your father have against me?"