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Several years passed without any more tidings of her son reaching Frau Gensfleisch, until there called at her cottage one day a pilgrim who was returning from the Holy Land, and was on his way to the city of Treves, to which he was taking some holy relics. He brought to Frau Gensfleisch a small bag of silver coin, as much in value as the money she had given to Hans at his departure.
She lived in a dark and narrow street, and seldom went from home except on certain days, when, as of old, she would take a flask of her ink to the convent for the use of the monks, who were still, as during the childhood of Hans Gensfleisch, busied over their endless copying and writing.
Luckily for Hans and for the world, he had these good qualities even when thus a little boy, and from that time he made it the business of his life to turn the thought to good account. We do not say that the little boy Hans Gensfleisch could at that time foresee any but a very small part of the good which might arise out of the invention of printing.
His father, Friel Gensfleisch, married Else von Gutenberg, who gave her name to her second son John. It is probable that if Mainz, his country, had not been a free city, this young gentleman would have been unable to conceive or to carry into execution his invention.
All this turned out very unfortunately for Hans Gensfleisch, as it was the occasion at last of his being obliged to leave his native city, and be absent for many years from his poor mother.
Frau Gensfleisch knew by this that the money came from Hans, and her heart beat for joy at the knowledge that he was well and rich, and above all that he had not forgotten her.
Henceforward Hans was to be a scholar, and his joy indeed was great. We must pass quickly over several years of the time during which Hans Gensfleisch was going through the tedious operation of learning to read and write.
They liked to do honor to their ingenious and useful citizen, even though he had been dead nearly four hundred years, and they hung garlands of flowers on his statue, and had music and processions and illuminations all to celebrate the memory of the son of the poor widow Gensfleisch.
Then falling on her neck, he embraced her long and tenderly, and he said, "Mother, I am indeed thy Hans!" and then turning to the wondering monks, "Yes, holy fathers, I am the Hans Gensfleisch, who was in this convent taught to read and write.
He said he would take her to the apartment of the Superior, to which the traveller had been summoned on his return from the Archbishop, and there she could wait until he had time enough to speak with her about her son. When Frau Gensfleisch entered the room of the Superior, a crowd of monks was so gathered round the stranger that she could see neither his face nor form.
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