"Father's coming, father's coming," cried Bertha, as she ran down the steps and out into the street.

Her father had been away for two days, and Hans had gone with him. They had been to Heidelberg. Bertha and Gretchen had never yet visited that city, although it was not more than twenty miles away.

"Oh, dear, I don't know where to begin," Hans told the girls that evening.

"Of course, I liked to watch the students better than anything else. The town seems full of them. They all study in the university, of course, but they are on the streets a good deal. They seem to have a fine time of it. Every one carries a small cane with a button on the end of it. They wear their little caps down over their foreheads on one side."

"What colour do they have for their caps, Hans?" asked Gretchen.

"All colours, I believe. Some are red, some blue, some yellow, some green. Oh, I can't tell you how many different kinds there are. But they were bright and pretty, and made the streets look as though it must be a festival day."

"I have heard that the students fight a good many duels. Is that so, Hans?"

"If you should see them, you would certainly think so. Many of the fellows are real handsome, but their faces are scarred more often than not.

"'The more scars I can show, the braver people will think I am.' That is what the students seem to think. They get up duels with each other on the smallest excuse. When they fight, they always try to strike the face. Father says their duelling is good practice. It really helps to make them brave. If I were a student, I should want to fight duels, too."

Bertha shuddered. Duelling was quite the fashion in German universities, but the little girl was very tender-hearted. She could not bear to think of her brother having his face cut up by the sword of any one in the world.

"What do you think, girls?" Hans went on. "Father had to go to the part of the town nearest the castle. He said he should be busy for several hours, and I could do what I liked. So I climbed up the hill to the castle, and wandered all around it. I saw a number of English and American people there. I suppose they had come to Heidelberg on purpose to see those buildings.

"'Isn't it beautiful!' I heard them exclaim again and again. And I saw a boy about my own age writing things about it in a note-book. He told his mother he was going to say it was the most beautiful ruin in Germany. He was an American boy, but he spoke our language. I suppose he was just learning it, for he made ever so many mistakes. I could hardly tell what he was trying to say."

"What did his mother answer?" asked Bertha.

"She nodded her head, and then pointed out some of the finest carvings and statues. But she and her son moved away from me before long, and then I found myself near some children of our country. They must have been rich, for they were dressed quite grandly. Their governess was with them. She told them to notice how many different kinds of buildings there were, some of them richly carved, and some quite plain. 'You will find here palaces, towers, and fortresses, all together,' she said. 'For, in the old days, it was not only a grand home, but it was also a strong fortress.'"

"You know father told us it was not built all at once," said Gretchen. "Different parts were added during four hundred years."

"Yes, and he said it had been stormed by the enemy, and burned and plundered," added Bertha. "It has been in the hands of those horrid Frenchmen several different times. Did you see the blown-up tower, Hans?"

"Of course I did. Half of it, you know, fell into the moat during one of the sieges, but linden-trees have grown about it, and it makes a shady nook in which to rest one's self."

"You did not go inside of the castle, did you, Hans?" asked Gretchen.

"No. It looked so big and gloomy, I stayed outside in the pretty gardens. I climbed over some of the moss-grown stairs, though, and I kept discovering something I hadn't seen before. Here and there were old fountains and marble statues, all gray with age."

"They say that under the castle are great, dark dungeons," said Bertha, shivering at the thought.

"What would a castle be without dungeons?" replied her brother. "Of course there are dungeons. And there are also hidden, underground passages through which the people inside could escape in times of war and siege."

"Oh, Hans! did you see the Heidelberg Tun?" asked Gretchen.

Now, the Heidelberg Tun is the largest wine-cask in the whole world. People say that it holds forty-nine thousand gallons. Just think of it! But it has not been filled for more than a hundred years.

"No, I didn't see it," replied Hans. "It is down in the cellar, and I didn't want to go there without father. I heard some of the visitors telling about the marks of the Frenchmen's hatchets on its sides. One of the times they captured the castle, they tried to break open the tun. They thought it was full of wine. But they did not succeed in hacking through its tough sides."

"Good! Good!" cried his sisters. They had little love for France and her people.

That evening, after Hans had finished telling the girls about his visit, their father told them the legend of Count Frederick, a brave and daring man who once lived in Heidelberg Castle.

Count Frederick was so brave and successful that he was called "Frederick the Victorious."

Once upon a time he was attacked by the knights and bishops of the Rhine, who had banded together against him. When he found what great numbers of soldiers were attacking his castle, Count Frederick was not frightened in the least. He armed his men with sharp daggers, and marched boldly out against his foes.

They attacked the horses first of all. The daggers made short work, and the knights were soon brought to the ground. Their armour was so heavy that it was an easy matter then to make them prisoners and take them into the castle.

But Frederick treated them most kindly. He ordered a great banquet to be prepared, and invited his prisoners to gather around the board, where all sorts of good things were served.

One thing only was lacking. There was no bread. The guests thought it was because the servants had forgotten it, and one of them dared to ask for a piece. Count Frederick at once turned toward his steward and ordered the bread to be brought. Now his master had privately talked with the steward and had told him what words to use at this time.

"I am very sorry," said the steward, "but there is no bread."

"You must bake some at once," ordered his master.

"But we have no flour," was the answer.

"You must grind some, then," was the command.

"We cannot do so, for we have no grain."

"Then see that some is threshed immediately."

"That is impossible, for the harvests have been burned down," replied the steward.

"You can at least sow grain, that we may have new harvests as soon as possible."

"We cannot even do that, for our enemies have burned down all the buildings where the grain was stored for seed-time."

Frederick now turned to his visitors, and told them they must eat their meat without bread. But that was not all. He told them they must give him enough money to build new houses and barns to take the places of those they had destroyed, and also to buy new seed for grain.

"It is wrong," he said, sternly, "to carry on war against those who are helpless, and to take away their seeds and tools from the poor peasants."

It was a sensible speech. It made the knights ashamed of the way they had been carrying on war in the country, and they left the castle wiser and better men.

All this happened long, long ago, before Germany could be called one country, for the different parts of the land were ruled over by different people and in different ways.

This same Count Frederick, their father told them, had great love for the poor. When he was still quite young, he made a vow. He said, "I will never marry a woman of noble family."

Not long after this, he fell in love with a princess. But he could not ask her to marry him on account of the vow he had made.

He was so unhappy that he went into the army. He did not wish to live, and hoped he would soon meet death.

But the fair princess loved Frederick as deeply as he loved her, and as soon as she learned of the vow he had made, she made up her mind what to do.

She put on the dress of a poor singing-girl, and left her grand home. She followed Frederick from place to place. They met face to face one beautiful evening. Then it was that the princess told her lover she had given up her rank and title for his sake.

How joyful she made him as he listened to her story! You may be sure they were soon married, and the young couple went to live in Heidelberg Castle, where they were as happy and as merry as the day is long.