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“Would you like to go to your cousins in Nurnberg, and help them in plate-engraving! There’s plenty of work there.”

“I would like to go to Durer in Nurnberg, but I don’t want to be a plate-engraver. I would rather cut figures that look natural.”

“That’s right,” said the Emperor, “you will be a man, indeed; always hold to that which is natural and you will not fail.”

At that moment the Emperor drew a leather bag from his velvet riding jacket and gave it to the boy.

“Be careful of it. Save the golden florins within; give them to no one. Remember, the Emperor has ordered that they be used toward your education. Study well, and when you are full-grown and able to travel, then go to Durer, in Nurnberg. Convey to him my greetings; say to him that, as I, while in his studio one day, held the ladder for him lest he fall, so should he now hold the ladder of fame for you, that you may be able to climb to the very top of it. Will you promise me all that, my boy?”

“Yes, your majesty!” cried Hans, inspired, and, seizing the Emperor’s right hand, he shook it heartily and kissed it. Then the Emperor passed on, while the boy stood there in a dream. Marie still held tightly to her apron.

Just at that moment a servant appeared who had been in search of Marie. The children ran to meet her and related their experience with the Emperor. The servant called all the townsfolk together to see the knife and the contents of the bag, but wise Hans kept the bag closed.

The next day the Emperor rode off; but for many days to come his talk with Hans was the town topic. “Surely, it is no wonder,” said the envious ones. “Hans always was a bold boy and knew how to talk up for himself, so why shouldn’t he know how to talk to the Emperor?” This speech was decidedly undeserved; but Hans was too young to understand their meanness. He was absorbed in the Emperor’s greatness and kindliness.

CHAPTER II

UNDER THE EMPEROR’S BUSH

Years passed. Hans Le Fevre lost his mother and Marie hers; and closer and closer did the bond of companionship draw these children.

In the evening, when her father was busy with a committee-meeting and the housekeeper was gossiping with the neighbors, Hans and Marie would climb the garden wall. Here they would sit together, while Hans cut beautiful toys for her, such as no child of those times had. He would talk with her about all the beautiful pictures and carvings he had lately seen, and of the masters in the art of wood-carving; for now he was attending art lectures and studying hard. Hours were spent in this way; but often, when the opportunity offered, they would run off to the Cathedral and water the rose-bush, which Hans had now christened the “Emperor’s Bush.”

There they loved best to linger, for there they hoped always that the Emperor would return. And often they would cry out aloud, “Your Majesty, Your Majesty, come again!”

But their voices died away unanswered; for, far from them, the Emperor was concerned with the affairs of State. The children waited for him in vain. The Emperor came no more.

As the time went by, the children grew, and the rose-bush grew also. Just as if the tender threads of love in their hearts had unconsciously entwined them as one around the roots of the little bush, it kept drawing them to itself, there in the niche of the wall. There they found each other, day after day. The bush was like a true friend, who held their two hands fast in his. But their true friend was not strong enough to hold together what other people wished to separate.

The lovely, highly respected Counselor’s daughter was no longer permitted to meet Hans. Her father forbade her one day, saying that Hans was not only poor but was not even a native of the town. His ancestors were Hollanders who had wandered into Breisach. A stranger he was, and a poor stranger at that. He was a sort of Pariah and could not be fitted into their time-honored customs. Then, too, he did not pursue any regular trade. “He expects to be an artist.” At that time that was as good as to be a robber, or a tramp or a conjurer.