So I made for another channel.
"I have heard," said I, "that once upon a time a princess was born in this inn ?" The old fellow elevated both eyebrows and shoulders--a deprecating movement.
"They say that of every inn; it has become a trade." If I had known the old man I might have said that he was sarcastic.
"Then there is no truth in it ?" disappointedly.
"Oh, I do not say there is no truth in the statement; if Herr will pardon me, it is something I do not like to talk about." "Ah, then there is a mystery ?" I cried, with lively interest, pushing back my chair.
But the innkeeper shook his head determinedly.
"Very well," I laughed; "I shall ask Gretchen." He smiled.

The smile said: "Much good it will do you." Gretchen was in the barroom arranging some roses over the fireplace.
Her hands were bare; they were small and white, and surprisingly well kept.
"Gretchen," said I, "I want you to tell me the legend of the inn." "The legend ?" "Yes; about the Princess who was born here." Gretchen laughed a merry laugh.

The laugh said: "You are an amusing person!" "Ah, the American is always after legends when he has tired of collecting antiquities.

Was there a Princess born here?
Perhaps.

At any rate it is not a legend; history nor peasantry make mention of it.
Will Herr be so kind as to carry the ladder to the mantel so I may wind the clock ?" I do so.