When the eventful morning came, everything was bright and gay-looking, and the sidewalks were crowded with people who wished to see the procession. When the Van Cortlandts’ bed had been made, the breakfast dishes cleared away, and the two rooms nicely swept and dusted (for it is to be believed that if the Frau Van Cortlandt had known the end of the world was to come in an hour, she would not have delayed her morning’s work a moment) Gretchen and her mother were ready to watch and wait, with the remainder of the city. But alas, and alas. No view was to be had from their windows, because of the crowd outside, and no room could be found outside. No one would give up their place. How much Gretchen wished for the Herr Van Breyck, their only friend, who would take her in his strong arms, and find a place for her, but he was away at Frankfort, and what should she do?
Suddenly she thought of the attic balcony! It was a little bit of a one, and would hold but one person. Gretchen’s mother could not go up the stairs, so she slipped up to the unoccupied garret, and out on the balcony, from which she could look down over the heads of the people, and see the Emperor and his troops, as nicely as she could wish.
She was leaning lazily over the edge of the balcony when she chanced to see, in the middle of the road, a poor old woman, who was vainly trying to get a good place amid the crowd. Among those people there was little chance for her, and Gretchen pitied her.
BERLIN: STATUE OF FREDERIC THE GREAT.
“Poor thing!” she said. “I think”—at this moment she suddenly stopped, startled by a thought which came into her mind, and remained silent quite a while. What she was thinking was something like this: “Suppose I should ask her to come up on the balcony? Then I couldn’t see the procession at all—and that wouldn’t do, after all my trouble to get a good place. I wonder if that would be doing what the man said—not pleasing myself? Maybe it would, but then it is such a little thing that I’m sure the King wouldn’t hear of it. If I could only please Him some great way, how nice it would be!”
But I am glad to tell you, and am sure you will be glad to hear, that after this talk with herself, the little girl made her way down to where the old lady was looking about her.
“Good Frau,” she said, as the old lady turned to look at her, “I have a place for you to see the procession; will you come with me?”
Through the door, up the three flights of stairs, went the little light figure, followed by the older and feeble one. “I am afraid, good Frau, these stairs will tire you,” said Gretchen, “but it is the only place there is.”
A chair was then brought up from the Frau Van Cortlandt’s own kitchen, on which the old lady seated herself, after which Gretchen went to the bedroom down-stairs, and throwing herself on the bed, burst into a flood of tears. “I can’t help it,” she sobbed; “I did so want to see the procession! But I am not sorry, if the Prince knows.” Then she dried her eyes and went to the door, where she could see nothing but the backs of the people in front of it.