"When you have to go, you always sigh as
loud as yesterday and cry: 'Oh, what a shame! Oh, what a shame!' and you
think it is fearful."
"Quite right, cunning little Maezli," Kurt laughed.
"Come, come, children, now we'll sing instead of quarrelling," the mother
admonished them. "We'll sing 'The lovely moon is risen.' You know all
the words of that from beginning to end, Maezli."
They all started and finished the whole song in peace.
When the mother came back later on from the beds of the two younger
children, the three elder ones sat expectantly around the table, for Kurt
had told them of their mother's promise to tell them the story of the
family of Wallerstaetten that evening. They had already placed their
mother's knitting-basket on the table in preparation of what was to come,
because they knew that she would not tell them a story without knitting
at the same time.
Smilingly the mother approached. "Everything is ready, I see, so I can
begin right away."
"Yes, and right from the start, please; from the place where the ghost
first comes in."
The mother looked questioningly at Kurt. "It seems to me, Kurt, that you
still hope to find out about this ghost, whatever I may say to the
contrary. I shall tell you, though, how people first began to talk about
a ghost in Wildenstein. The origin of these rumors goes back many, many
years."
"There is a picture in the castle," the mother began to relate, "which I
often looked at as a child and which made a deep impression upon me.
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