At police headquarters Hans learnt that Franziska Götz now lived at 34 Annen Street, fourth floor, with a widow named Brandauer, a laundress.
A quarter of an hour later he was sitting in silence beside Fränzchen, with both of her hands in his and the most important thing had been said: he had even kissed the girl. They had so much to say to each other that could not be told in a day or a week or a month. Fränzchen related that on the third day after Kleophea's flight her mother had come out of her apartments again, had forbidden anyone to mention her daughter's name in her hearing and in full sight of the household had torn up the letter Kleophea had written just after she left. She had done with her child forever.
Kleophea had written to Fränzchen and parts of her letter sounded forced and embarrassed; she begged her to kiss Papa and to tell him that she thought of him "so much, so much." She did not speak of her mother once and there was no mention of Dr. Stein till just at the end.
Franziska too had written with a bleeding heart to Kleophea about her father and mother and asked her cousin never to forget in case of need that Fränzchen was still there to feel with her, to suffer with her, to comfort and if possible to help.
Then they talked of Uncle Theodor's death. On the ninth of December at eight o'clock in the morning Jean had found his master fully dressed in his black frock coat, with his white tie, sitting at his writing table, dead. On the table under his cold hand which in its cold grasp still held the pen lay a sheet of paper on which were the words: "I forgive——" Death had overtaken him before he could write whom and what he forgave.
It was a miracle of miracles to sit thus hand in hand high up in Annen Street at Mrs. Brandauer's, while it began to snow again. In spite of the fresh graves, in spite of poor Kleophea, Hans and Fränzchen became more and more permeated with the secure calm of happiness. Frau Brandauer asked Hans to stay to dinner and it turned out that there was nothing to prevent Fränzchen from following Hans to Grunzenow the next day on the noon train. And at that hour next day they were really sitting side by side in the train.
It was the twenty-fourth of December. That was the right day on which to be hurrying toward home. The post-coach and the way to Freudenstadt were, in truth, enchanted. There at the door of the old post-house stood Colonel von Bullau and welcomed with a hurrah the child of Lieutenant Rudolf's heart, his darling, his pet, Fränzchen Götz. An opulent lunch was waiting in the "Polish Buck" and then with a joyful hurrah off they went over the smooth course to Grunzenow. In the castle they had "let in the womenfolk" who had ruled for three days with torrents of water and broomsticks. Now everything was ready. A gigantic snowman stood in the court and kept watch in front of a portal of honor made of evergreens and bearing a transparency that bade Fränzchen and Candidate Unwirrsch welcome. The little room in the vicarage which the future assistant Hans Unwirrsch was to occupy had also been swept and scrubbed and arranged for him. Then came the hour when all the Christmas trees in Germany blazed with light—the right hour in which to move into a new life with joy-filled, grateful hearts. The gate of the castle of Grunzenow stood wide open. Grimly the lanterns burned in the eyes and mouth of the snowman—welcome! shouted the triumphal arch in fiery letters—welcome! roared the rough voices of the servants. The cannon crashed, the dogs barked—Lieutenant Rudolf Götz held his child in his arms and nearly crushed and smothered her.
There was the grand old hall of the house of Grunzenow! The tile stoves radiated heat,—an enormous Christmas tree shone in the light of a hundred wax candles—Christmas, Christmas! The house of Grunzenow had not seen such a Christmas for a hundred years.
Fränzchen Götz sat under the Christmas tree surrounded by the three old men, and it was a pretty scene; Hans Unwirrsch smiled, but he smiled through tears. If next morning he should not wake in Grinse Street the circle of his happiness would be complete.]