As this quaint little Fraeulein went into the house she met Friedrich, who came from the bookseller’s.

“Friedrich,” said she, in a solemn voice, “we have walled up the ‘Maerchen-Frau.’”

“Have you, Schwesterchen?”

This was Friedrich’s answer; but it may safely be stated that, if any one had asked him what it was his sister had told him, he would have been utterly unable to reply.

He had been to the bookseller’s!

The summer passed, and the children kept faithfully to their resolve.  The little sister sometimes sat by the wall and comforted the Maerchen-Frau inside, with promises of coming out soon; but not a brick was touched.  There was something pathetic in the children’s voluntary renouncement of their one toy.  The father was too absent and the mother too busy, to notice its loss; Marie missed it and made inquiries of the children, but she was implored to be silent, and discreetly held her tongue.  Winter drew on, and for some time a change was visible in the manners of one of the children; he seemed restless and uncomfortable, as if something preyed upon his mind.  At last he was induced to unburden himself to the others, when it was discovered that he couldn’t forget the poems in “Maerchen-Frau.”  This was the grievance.

“It seems as if I did it on purpose,” groaned he in self-indignation.  “The nearer the time comes, and the more I try to forget, the clearer I remember them everyone.  You know my pet is Bluebeard; well, I thought I would forget that altogether, every word:  and then when my turn came to be Maerchen-Frau I would take it for my piece.  And now, of all the rest, this is just the one that runs in my head.  It is quite as if I did it on purpose.”

Involuntarily the company—­who appeared to have forgotten it as little as he—­struck up in a merry tune—­

    “Blaubart war ein reicher Mann,” etc.[A]

“Oh, don’t!” groaned the victim.  “That’s just how it goes in my head all along, especially the verse—­

    “Stark war seines Koerpers Ban,
    Feurig waren seine Blicke,
    Aber ach!—­ein Missgeschicke!—­
    Aber ach! sein Bart war blau."[B]

“On Sunday, when the preacher gave out the text, I was looking at him, and it came so strongly into my head that I nearly said it out loud—­’But ah! his beard was blue!’ To-day the schoolmaster asked me a question about Solomon.  I could remember nothing but ’Ah! his beard was blue!’ I have tried this week with all my might; and the harder I try, the better I remember every word.  It is dreadful.”

[Footnote A:  “Bluebeard was a rich man.”]

[Footnote B: 

    “Strong was the build of his body,
    Fiery were his glances,
    But ah!—­disaster!—­
    But ah! his beard was blue.”]

It was dreadful; but he was somewhat comforted to learn that the memories of his brothers and sisters were as perverse as his own.  Those ballads were not to be easily forgotten.  They refused to give up their hold on the minds they had nourished and amused so long.