The Four Corners Abroad

"Another thing I like," Nan went on, "is the number of big landmarks there are. Somehow, although it is really quite a large city, it doesn't seem so. There is plenty of space, and buildings are set so you can see them easily. They aren't crowded in little narrow streets so they make no show at all. When I see the big fountain I know I am nearly home. The Neue Rathaus is another landmark, the Isarthor is another, the Odeonsplatz still another, while if you catch sight of the Frauenkirche no matter where you are you can tell in exactly what direction you ought to go."

"I am glad you are so contented, my dear," said Miss Helen, "as long as you are to be here for the winter. I think the others are, too."

"Yes, I am sure they are. Jack was delighted because she happened to be with you when the figures came out on the clock in the tower of the Neue Rathaus."

"Yes, we happened to be just in time."

"It certainly is a fine building. Indeed, it seems to me that Munich has nothing but fine buildings wherever you go; fine gateways and arches and parks. I like those old painted houses, too. In fact I think Munich is delightful beyond words, and if Italy surpasses it I shall not be able to stay in my skin."

"It doesn't exactly surpass it. Each has its own attraction. To me there is no place quite like Italy; it has an indescribable charm. I am afraid we shall not find the sunshine here that we should get there."

"I am sure it has been lovely for a whole month, scarcely a rainy day. Think how beautiful and sunny it was that day we went to the Starnberger See."

"Yes, but I am told in winter the sun shines seldom. You see Munich is on a plain where the mists gather and remain. While the sun may be shining brightly on the mountains above, here it will be dull and gray for weeks at a time. You remember that even at the Isarthal it was clear and bright, yet we found Munich wrapped in mist when we came back. It is said to be healthful nevertheless."

"I don't like the not seeing the sun, but maybe we won't miss it so very much so long as it doesn't rain much. There is one thing that is very funny to me, Aunt Helen, and that is to see how the women work. It looks ridiculous to see a woman in an absurd Tyrolese hat with a feather sticking up straight behind, turning the tram switches, and to see them carrying heavy loads of wood on their backs or pushing a big cart through the streets is something I cannot get used to. Look at our little Anna here at the pension, she goes down into the bowels of the earth somewhere and brings up coal, great buckets of it, over two long flights. Imagine expecting a servant to do that at home."

"The German point of view is quite different from ours in more than one direction, you will find."

"I have noticed that. The other day when we all went out to the Isarthal with Fräulein Bauer and her brother, although he was as polite as a dancing-master in most ways, he never offered to help her or any one up those hundreds of steps one must climb to get to the station at Höllriegelsgreuth-Grünwald."

Miss Helen laughed. "How did you ever remember that long name, Nan?"

"Oh, I made a point of it because it was so nice and long. As I was saying Herr Bauer seemed quite a pig by the side of Dr. Paul who is always so lovely and courteous to every one. Fräulein Bauer was quite overcome when he rushed back to help her. I don't believe a man ever did such a thing before for her."

"As we were just saying their standards are very different from ours, although you will not find so great differences in the upper classes. Generally speaking, a woman must be a good hausfrau and make the men comfortable to reach the proper ideal; failing this she is a worthless creature in the estimation of most of the men."

"Give me my own, my native land," sang Nan, "and above all, give me the blessed men from our own part of the country. There are none like them in the whole wide world."

CHAPTER XII

ALL SAINTS

Sunday was always an interesting day, for there were many things to do. The little American church near the Odeonsplatz was a homelike place where once a week, at least, one could imagine himself at home, so familiar was the service in one's own tongue, and here the family generally went. After church it was the custom to promenade up and down the Parada, and with the rest of the citizens to listen to the music of the band which played upon the balcony of the Feldernhalle.

But there was one Sunday when the morning service was unattended by any from Pension Bauer, for all took their way to the cemetery. This was the day of All Saints, and every grave, even the humblest, was decorated, lights were set to burn, and the whole place looked like a great garden of blossoms. There were many persons walking quietly around, old women were stationed to watch the tall candles or to replenish the swinging lamps.

"It is very solemn and very beautiful," said Nan to Dr. Woods, with whom she was walking. "I never imagined anything quite like this, but I think it is a beautiful custom."

"The royal tombs are decorated to-day, too," said Dr. Woods. "We ought to go to St. Michael's, for in the crypt there King Ludwig II and a number of others are buried. A great many persons visit the place every year, for this is the only day upon which the place is opened to the public. If you all are not too tired we might go there from here."

Nan agreed and they passed on to where Jean and Jack were standing whispering together.

"Look, Nan," said Jack, "at that little girl over there. She is putting that one little candle and that tiny bunch of flowers on a grave. She looks so poor. I wonder whose grave it is? I hope it is not her mother's."

"See, she is coming away," said Nan. "Don't watch her so closely, dear; it doesn't seem kind."

The two children turned quickly away, but could not forbear watching the little girl as she slowly passed out the gate.

"I wish I knew about her," said Jack following the departing figure with sympathetic glances.

"Let's go, Nan," said Jean; "it is so sad here."

"I don't think you twinnies ought to have come," Nan told them.

"Oh, yes, we ought. We like the flowers and the lights, but we don't like little girls like that to be so poor as not to have more flowers and candles," Jack returned.

They now came up to the rest of the party and proposed the walk to see the royal tombs, but Mrs. Corner decided that she was too tired to go and, therefore, the twins went home with her while the others continued to the church. Here a long procession of persons passed steadily in and out of the crypt, where masses of flowers and brilliant lights surrounded the tombs of dead royalty.

"I'd like to know more about King Ludwig II," said Nan to her companion. "The Bavarian succession is so mixed up in my mind I never do get it straight."

"There is a little history of Bavaria that I saw somewhere. I shall be glad to bring it to you, if you would care to look it over. You will find this a most interesting kingdom, full of romance as well as of solid fact. The unfortunate Ludwig II was son of Maximilian II and grandson of Ludwig I. The present Prince Regent is a son of Ludwig I and a brother of Maximilian II. He is, therefore, uncle of Ludwig II and of the poor mad king Otto, the actual king."

"I will write that all down, and then I can remember it better," said Nan. This she proceeded to do. "I should like very much to see the history, thank you, and get all these Ludwigs and Maximilians straightened out. It will make the places named after them so much more interesting. I did get a sort of half idea from all those wonderful castles we have been making trips to see, but I am not yet quite exact."

"I think you will like the legend called 'Weibtreue' which tells of an event away back in the twelfth century."

"Tell me it."

"The story goes that Welf VI with his wife and followers were besieged by Konrad, the Hohenstaufen. After a long time they said they would yield, but Konrad was so angry at the long resistance that he declared that every man should be killed, though he consented to allow the women to go out first, each being allowed to take with her the thing she valued the most. Finally when the city gates were flung open out came a long train of women, and what do you think they had on their backs?"

Nan's eyes were bright as stars. She loved this sort of legend. "What?" she asked.

"The Countess Ida, Welf's wife, came first and on her back she carried her husband. Each of the women following carried either a husband, father, lover, son or brother."

"Good!" Nan's hands came together. "And what did Konrad do?"

"His soldiers were furious at the trick, but Konrad himself was so struck by the women's devotion that he forgave them every one."

Nan laughed. "Now I know why the women of Germany have such mighty strong backs. They began their training away back in the twelfth century and evidently have kept it up ever since, for they carry such loads as I never saw."

Dr. Paul laughed, and the two, having passed through the Karlsthor and up the wide Lenbach-platz, waited for the others who had lagged a little behind.

Mrs. Hoyt's sitting-room was more of a rendezvous on a rainy Sunday afternoon than at any other time, and when the chill mists had resolved themselves into a persistent drizzle, the young people gathered in the cheery place to forget outside conditions and to get rid of the blues. Here, after dinner, Nan found Mary Lee and Jo with the Hoyt family and two or three of Maurice's schoolfellows. Mrs. Hoyt was dispensing toasted buns, Lebkücken and chocolate, and it was the coziest of companies.

"Just in time," Mrs. Hoyt told her. "Sit right down wherever you can find a place, Nan. We have none too many chairs, as you see."

Maurice jumped to his feet and gave Nan his place while he took a position on the floor by Jo, who was seated on a sofa cushion by the window.

"This is nice," said Nan in a satisfied tone. "It is so much like home, and one does get tired of foreign doings once in a while."

"I thought we'd better stay in this drizzly afternoon," remarked Mrs. Hoyt. "Juliet, for one, should not go out, for she has already taken cold."

"If she has taken cold give her quinine; if she has taken anything else, give her thirty days," advised Maurice, between bites of Lebkücken. And of course everybody laughed, as he meant they should.

"This is the best Lebkücken I ever ate," said Nan. "It is much better than any we have had."

"That is because it is the real Nuremburg article," Mrs. Hoyt told her. "There is none quite so good. Have you been to Nuremburg, Nan?"