The Catholic World Volume Ii Part 63

"But come," said she, "when you are ready we will go to the Christmas market."

"May I go, brother?" asked Agnes. "Yes, indeed you may, only come home in time," said he; '"and be so good, dame Margaret, as to keep watch upon the little girl."

"Have no fear, Master Ernest," she replied, "for you know I love her as if she were my own child."

VII.

Dame Margaret took her way along the street leading to the Christmas market--holding the Agnes by hand, who every now and then urged her to make greater haste. From the deep blue sky the stars poured down their pale silver light upon the dazzling fresh-fallen snow. Crowds of people were hurrying up and down, talking merrily, or, divided into groups, stood gazing eagerly and curiously upon the bright display of the fair. Bright lights were burning in the stands and shops of the tradesmen, displaying all their treasures to the astonished eye. Here peeped out the pleasant, friendly faces of dolls with waxen heads, dressed after the newest fas.h.i.+on in little hoods or Florence hats, while others stood more retired, like ladies and gentlemen, splendidly wrapped in cloaks and furs, as if they feared the cold. A varied medley of hussars in rich embroidered uniform hung there; huntsmen with, rifle and pouch, chimney-sweeps and Tyrolese, hermits and friars, Greeks near their mortal enemies the Turks, and Moors, standing peacefully side by side. The plas.h.i.+ng fish swam round in a gla.s.s panel, whilst close by stood a dark oak-wood case, in which leaden bears and stags were seized by hounds and hunters of the same metal. Elsewhere was a whole regiment of bearded grenadiers, arranged in stiff array, with Turkish music. A frightful fortress, with paper walls and wooden cannon, frowned next a kitchen where was to be seen the pretty sight of cook, hearth, pans, spits, plates, etc. Here sweetmeats, choice pastry, tarts, chocolate, almonds, gingerbread, etc., excited in many a dainty palate long desire and hard temptation.

Golden apples gleamed forth from dark leaves, nuts rattled in silver bowls, while in another place low cribs, with water, mountain, and valley, herds and herdsmen, with angels in the air and on the earth, sweetly represented the new-born child lying in the cradle, carefully watched by Mary and Joseph.

Little Agnes gazed with delighted eyes upon all this splendor, and often laid her tender hand upon her youthful breast, as if to repress its longings {402} and sounds escaped her lips which only too plainly expressed the joy of her heart.

But at length dame Margaret thought it was time to go home. "Do let us first go to find Herr Hoss," begged Agnes, "his crib is always the prettiest," and laughing good-naturedly she drew the obliging Margaret along with her to the antiquary. They found him occupied in attending upon an elderly lady. Did Agnes see aright? Did her eyes deceive her?

"Yes, yes," she suddenly exclaimed in great distress, "it is my Bible, my dear picture-book!" and in a moment she released herself from Margaret and ran up to the lady.

"Oh, dear lady," cried she, eagerly, "do not buy it; you cannot, you must not buy it; that book belongs to me!" The lady looked at the little girl in great astonishment.

"What are you dreaming of, you silly little thing?" grumbled the antiquary, vexed at the unwelcome interruption. "It is mine; I bought it, and at a high price."

"That cannot be, dear sir," earnestly protested the little girl. "I beg you give me back my picture-book; I will give you all the money I have," and saying this she drew out her little purse, which contained, alas! only four pennies, her little savings. "Take it," said she, "only give me my picture-book."

"Oh! you little sharper," said the antiquary jeeringly, "that would be a great profit; I have paid more florins for it than you have pennies."

"I beg you, for heaven's sake," sobbed Agnes, with folded hands and tears streaming from her blue eyes. "I tell you, upon my honor, it belongs to me; only see, there is my name on the t.i.tle-page, which my brother wrote there in Latin letters."

The lady turned the leaf over and read aloud, "Frederic Schein!"

"Frederic Schein?" exclaimed suddenly a loud voice, with evident emotion, and a slender, manly figure wrapped in a cloak, from beneath which glistened a richly embroidered huntsman's uniform, pressed through the circle which curiosity had formed around Agnes and the antiquary. "Frederic Schein?" again he exclaimed, and looked greatly agitated upon the book. "Permit me, n.o.ble lady?" he asked, and hastily seized the offered Bible. "Good heavens! my suspicions were right, it is my father's Bible!" and suddenly turning to the little girl: "What is thy family and baptismal name?"

"Agnes Kuhn," answered Agnes, greatly terrified.

"Is your mother's name Sophia?" he asked urgently and eagerly.

"Yes," answered the child, "my mother's name is Sophia, and my brother's Ernest."

"Thanks be to G.o.d, a thousand thanks!" fervently exclaimed the tall man, with deep emotion, and ardently pressed Agnes to his heart.

"Agnes," he cried, "I am your uncle; your mother is my sister. Oh!

take me to her."

Agnes, looking at him with astonishment, asked: "Are you my uncle Frank, of whom my mother has so often told me? Oh! if you are my uncle Frank," said she coaxingly, "do buy the Bible for me! and then I will take you to my mother." Her uncle kissed the little girl, and gave her the book. "I will take the book, sir," said he, "at any price;" and the antiquary made him a very low bow.

When the bargain was concluded, the tall huntsman moved quickly through the circle of astonished spectators, leading the little Agnes, who joyfully pressed the precious picture-book to her heart. Margaret followed, lost in astonishment.

VIII.

While these things were taking place at the fair, and Agnes unexpectedly had found the Bible and her uncle, Ernest sat by the bedside of his mother, enjoying her slumber, which was to him the sweet pledge of {403} her recovery. Before him lay open the histories of Holy Writ, and with deep emotion he was reading what the Lord in his infinite love and mercy had done for sinful men, and how he had sent them his only begotten Son to redeem and console them, whose birth-day was now to be joyfully celebrated throughout Christendom.

He had just looked at the fire in the stove, and poured fresh oil into the expiring lamp, when his mother awoke, and cast a kind, affectionate glance upon her good son.

"Oh, mother," cried he joyfully, "what a good sleep you have had; you have been asleep seven whole hours!"

"Yes, I have slept soundly," answered she, "and find myself greatly strengthened. But what has become of Agnes?"

"I let her go with dame Margaret to the Christmas fair; it is almost time for her to come back."

"Ah! it grieves me to the heart," sighed his mother, "that I cannot give you both a little Christmas gift, as I used to do."

"Don't be distressed on that account, dear mother," said Ernest, soothingly; "you are out of danger, and that is the most beautiful and best Christmas gift that could be bestowed on us. But the Christ-child has not forgotten us," and he handed his mother the bottle of wine and the biscuit.

"Where in all the world did this come from?" asked his astonished mother.

Ernest now related how he had sold the Bible to the antiquary (whose unkind treatment he concealed from his mother lest it should disturb her) for three florins, and how he had called on the apothecary, who had so hospitably received him, so kindly remembered his mother and little sister, and had promised not only a larger credit, but every kind of aid.

His mother could not find words to praise and thank their benefactor.

When Ernest wrapped up the biscuit again as his mother directed, he remarked upon the cover the hand-writing and name of the apothecary, and had the curiosity to open the whole paper.

Who can describe his surprise and emotion when he found the wrapper was a receipt in full, signed by the apothecary, for the eight florins and thirty pence due to him for medicines delivered.

"G.o.d bless our n.o.ble benefactor!" prayed his mother with folded hands.

But Ernest shouted, "Mother, we are now relieved of a great care!"

IX.

Dame Margaret just then entered with an unusually quick step, and with a countenance evidently announcing good tidings, but without little Agnes.

"Where have you left my Agnes?" inquired the mother anxiously.

"Do not trouble yourself about her; she will soon come, and not alone either. She is bringing an old acquaintance of yours with her!"

"An old, dear acquaintance?"

"Yes, and from your native place, too."

"From my native place?" asked the mother eagerly.

"He declares that he is very nearly related to you; and he does look very much like you."

"How does he look?" asked the mother urgently.

"He is tall and slender, with black eyes and black hair, and a scar over his brow; he looks to me like a huntsman."

"Great G.o.d! is it possible? can it be my brother?"