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Fräulein Christina Fasch makes good bread, and she is famous for her delicate puddings and sauces; the puzzle is, whence come the groceries, and the extras, and the wines that are consumed in the inn? A mile or so beyond, on a lower spur of the mountain ridge that overlooks the Rhine, a gap comes in the hedge that screens an almost precipitous descent into the broad, flat valley.
George Fasch, however, had of late become very much aware of his daughter's awkwardness, and secretly he was troubled by the prospect of her aunt's absence. He was a kind man and an affectionate father, but he objected to Gretchen's unaided cookery, and he had therefore resolved to transact some long-deferred business in Zurich during his sister's stay there.
"And now, messieurs," said Frederick, as he returned to the musicians, "we will take our parts, and you, Quantz, take your place at the piano." The concert began. Frederick stood behind the piano, at which Quantz sat; Graun and Fasch had withdrawn to the window, in order to enjoy the music, as Frederick was first to play a solo on his flute, with a simple piano accompaniment.
After all, was she not very like her mother? and his sweet lost wife had often told George Fasch how dreamy and heedless and stupid she had been in childhood. He was sure that Anna would mend in time, if only he could hit on some middle course at present.
"She is reckless and thoroughly unreliable," she said, "and she gets more stupid every day. If you were wise you would put her into a reformatory." George Fasch shrugged his shoulders. "She is affectionate," he said bluntly, "and she is very unselfish. I should be sorry to send her from home." Christina held up her hands. "I call a girl selfish who gives so much trouble.
The unlearned marquis looked in blessed ignorance upon his royal friend, and the beautiful music brought tears to his eyes. When the piece was ended, the king said to Quantz: "Do you find this text false?" "Yes, your majesty, it is false!" "And you two also believe it false?" "Yes, your majesty, it is false!" said Graun and Fasch. "But, if the composer will have it so?"
Before the cock has done crowing and really he goes on so long that it is a wonder he is not hoarse another voice mingles with the rest. It is a woman's voice, and, although neither hoarse nor shrill, it is no more musical than the crow of the other biped, who struts about on his widely-spread toes in the yard, to which Christina Fasch has come to feed the pigs.
Anna caught up her white apron and vigorously rubbed her eyes; then she hurried out to the path from her shelter among the trees. In another minute her arms were round her father, and she was kissing him on both cheeks. George Fasch kissed her and patted her shoulder; then a suppressed sob caught his ear. He held Anna away from him, and looked at her face.
Again came the false notes, frightful to the ears of musicians. And now Graun and Fasch could not keep time. The king held his breath. "Go on, Quantz," said he, zealously, placing the flute again to his lips. Quantz cast a sullen look at him. "As your majesty pleases," said he, and he played so fiercely that Graun and Fasch shivered, and Quantz himself whistled to drown the discord.
How came Anna to be at the foot of the pass if it was not possible to climb to the top of it? "What is it, Anna? Do you mean that I must come down again?" he said wonderingly. "Yes, yes; the path above is destroyed." And once more he wondered if all this could be real. "Father, can you come down with the pack, or will you unfasten it and leave it behind?" George Fasch thought a moment.
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