Chapter VII: Down the Rhine and Troubles

Mr. Toymaker felt almost jolly. He counted the money he had made and chuckled.

"At last our luck has changed," he said. "I have really sold some toys. Now, let us go on. Let us wander down the Rhine and stop at friendly fairs along the way."

Mitzi was not so pleased with her day.

"Still we shall not give up," she said to Fritz. "At the next large town you must give another concert. Only we shall take care this time that there are no beggars about!"

The family left Mainz and started along the shore of the most famous river in all the world. England has her river Thames (T[)e]mz). France is proud of the Seine (S[=a]n). Italy loves the Tiber. Russia sings of the Volga. In Austria it is the Danube. But the River Rhine is dear to Germany.

Castles on every hill have ancient legends. The Toymaker family gazed upon beautiful, vine-covered hillsides and villages where people live by the making of wine. The Rhine land is a wine land. Some of the best wines in the world come from here.

Mitz and Fritz thought of the stories of Siegfried (S[=e]g´fr[=e]d), that great hero of Wagner's operas, "Siegfried" and "The Twilight of the Gods." In the Rhine land Siegfried was born.

They thought of Charlemagne (Shär´l[+e]-m[=a]n), that mighty conqueror, who lies sleeping in this land. They thought of dragons, of buried treasure, of brave heroes, of secret caves. The Rhine country is full of such thoughts.

Then they came to Bingen (B[)i]n[=g]´[)e]n).

"The Mouse Tower!" cried Mitzi.

"Tell us the story, please, Mother!" said Fritz.

The children had heard this tale many times. But never before had they heard it told while they were looking at the old tower. It stood in the center of the river.

"Long ago," began Mrs. Toymaker, "there lived a cruel bishop. When the poor people were starving, he bought all the grain in the land. He locked it up in his barn. The hungry villagers came to steal the grain. While they were in the barn, the bishop set fire to it.

"He said, 'These people deserve to die. They are like mice stealing from a granary.'

"But soon he was punished for his wickedness. One day thousands of mice broke into his tower and ate him up. That is why this is called the Mouse Tower."

Said Fritz, "He deserved to be eaten!"

Said Mitz, "I wonder how a bishop would taste to a rat."

"Mitz! Mitz!" laughed Mrs. Toymaker. "What strange ideas you have!"

Yet Mrs. Toymaker could hardly guess what strange things Mitzi was really going to do. Even Fritz did not know. Indeed, Mitzi herself was unaware of all that lay before her.

The Toymakers traveled along the Rhine.

They passed the beautiful rock of the Lorelei and Mrs. Toymaker told Mitz and Fritz the famous legend of the beautiful maiden who sat upon the rock combing her golden hair. She sang and called to passing ships, and her voice was so beautiful that fishermen and sailors tried to reach the rock but they were always dashed to pieces on the reefs at the foot of the cliffs.

Mitz and Fritz loved this story.

The Toymakers stopped at one or two small towns. But Mr. Toymaker sold no toys. Again he grew worried. They passed happy people bathing in the river. Gay bath-houses dot the shores. Bathers bake themselves in the sun and rest beside the river.

"There is never any rest for me," sighed poor Mr. Toymaker.

"Perhaps, when we reach Coblenz (k[=o]´bl[)e]nts), you will sell more toys," said his wife.

"When we reach Coblenz," murmured Mitzi to Fritz, "you are to give another concert."

When they arrived in Coblenz, Mitzi said, "Come along, now, Fritz. This is our chance."

A short time later, Mr. Toymaker looked about and could not find Fritz and Mitzi.

"Where are the children?" he asked. "They are always running off."

"They have gone to the town," answered Mrs. Toymaker.

"I did not tell them they could go," said Mr. Toymaker. "What are they up to? They should stay and help me with my work."

"But they finished their work," said Mrs. Toymaker.

Mr. Toymaker grunted. He would surely have grunted more angrily had he seen what his children were doing at that moment. Fritz was standing in a far corner of the market square, playing his violin. Mitzi was standing by his side.

Coblenz is a city of manufacturing and similar industries. The fortress across the river was occupied by American soldiers after the World War. Sometimes in a quiet city people are not much hurried. Therefore they give heed to pleasant sounds. Coblenz has been a quiet city since the soldiers left.

Mitzi eagerly watched the passers-by. She smiled as Fritz played. The little dog Frank wagged his tail happily. Then he fell asleep on the sidewalk.

Soon a large number of people gathered. They stood listening.

One said to another, "The boy plays well. He is a real musician."

Several coins were thrown.

"I am right!" thought Mitzi. Her heart pounded with delight. "People will pay to hear my Fritz's music. They will!"

When the day was almost done, Fritz stopped playing. Mitzi showed him the money they had made.

"See," she said. "Enough coins to make even Father smile! Come. Let us give them to Father. How pleased he will be!"

"Now, perhaps, he will like my playing," said Fritz.

They hurried toward their wagon, where they found Mr. Toymaker very much annoyed.

"Why did you run away and not tell me where you were going?" he demanded.

Mitzi held out the money.

"See, Father," she said. "See what Fritz's music has brought!"

Mr. Toymaker looked at the coins in Mitzi's hand. Then he looked at the happy face of the little girl. And then he turned to Fritz, who was smiling at him.

"You are a very naughty boy!" he said.

The smile left Fritz's face. Mitzi caught her father's arm.

"But, Father," she said. "You don't understand. Fritz did nothing wrong. He only played his violin when he had finished the work you gave him. He played in the town, and people threw coins because they liked his music."

"What?" cried Mr. Toymaker. "Do you tell me that people paid to hear a boy scratching upon a fiddle? It is not true! Fritz has stolen this money!"

"Father!" gasped Fritz.

His face had gone white. Mitzi's eyes became two round bowls.

"Oh, Father, no!" she cried. "Fritz would never steal, and neither would I!"

"Do not say another word," commanded Mr. Toymaker. "You cannot make me believe this story. A boy's fiddling cannot bring, in one day, more money than I can make in a week selling toys. No, you have stolen. And I will not have it."

Mrs. Toymaker tried to make him believe Mitz and Fritz. But Mr. Toymaker was very stubborn.

"They are naughty children," he said to his wife. "Mitzi is always doing things she should not do. It was she who put the boy up to it. They must be made to obey! Tonight they shall go to bed without any supper."

Fritz cried himself to sleep that night. Mitzi tried to comfort him. To be accused of stealing! That was worse than having to go to bed without supper.

"We'll show Father, Fritz," Mitzi said bravely. "You'll see."

Still her heart was heavy.

"He will never believe me," said Fritz. "If only he would let me play for him! And now he thinks that I am a thief!"

Poor, honest little Fritz!