Mitz and Fritz of Germany

"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 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!

CHAPTER VIII

BONN AND BEETHOVEN

"Please, Fritz, do not look so sad," pleaded Mitzi.

They had arrived near the town of Bonn (Bō̍n) on the Rhine. In the distance they could see the buildings of a large university.

Fritz had not smiled since their terrible experience in Coblenz. Now, however, Mitzi hoped to cheer him.

"See, Fritz," she said. "We are in the town of Beethoven (Bā´tō-vĕn)."

At the sound of this name Fritz's eyes brightened. Beethoven was one of the greatest musicians that ever lived.

"I have asked Father to let us wander through the streets," said Mitzi. "We may even go to the house where Beethoven was born. Come, Fritz."

The boy and girl started off together for the pretty little village.

Later, Mr. and Mrs. Toymaker set off for the market place to sell their wares.

"I do wish you would listen to Fritz's playing," said Mrs. Toymaker, as they walked along. "He has been so unhappy since that day you scolded him. Perhaps, after all, our son may be a real musician."

"Say no more about that," growled Mr. Toymaker. "I'll have no idle musicians in my family. Look at all the starving tune makers in the world! They cannot even support themselves. No! Music is foolish!"

"But," said Mrs. Toymaker, "you forget that Beethoven – "

"He was different!" snapped Mr. Toymaker. "We cannot all be geniuses!"

So what could poor Mrs. Toymaker say? Often the good lady had wondered why it was that her husband wanted Fritz to make toys. Surely the making of toys had not proved a happy trade for Mr. Toymaker! But it was very difficult to argue with him, so his wife did not try.

The children visited Beethoven's house. It is now a museum. In it are such relics as the musician's letters, his piano, and even his ear trumpets. For Beethoven became deaf. Imagine such a thing as a deaf composer! Yet this wonderful man composed some of his most beautiful music even after he could not hear.

"I have read many things about Beethoven," said Fritz to Mitzi. "But the part I like to read about is when he was a boy."

Then Fritz told his sister some of the things he had read: "One night when Ludwig was asleep, his father came home and woke him up. He stood at this very gate and called, 'Up, up, Ludwig, and play!' His father kept him at the piano all night long. Next day Ludwig was so tired that he could not keep awake at school."

"Why did his father do that?" asked Mitzi indignantly.

"Because," answered Fritz, "he wanted Ludwig to be a great pianist and give concerts."

There is a statue of Beethoven in the main square of Bonn. In Germany a statue is called a "denkmal," which means a "think over." As Mitz and Fritz looked upon this "think over," they thought over many things.

"It seems strange," sighed Mitzi, "that Ludwig's father forced him to play, while your father forbids you to."

Fritz laughed.

"You silly!" he said. "I am not Ludwig van Beethoven."

Mitzi began to look like a fierce young lion. She really could look that way sometimes.

"No," she said, "but you are Fritz! And you can play the violin more beautifully than any other boy in the world."

"Oh, Mitz, what are you saying?" laughed her brother.

But Mitzi was firm.

"One day we shall see," she said.