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Tell me your name, therefore, that I may not forget." The poor, pale woman glanced searchingly at him. "My name," she said thoughtfully, as if to herself, "King Frederick wishes to know my name. I am called I am called Anna Schommer." And as she replied, she placed her hand upon the head of her little daughter, as if she needed a support.

"Well, then, I will go; farewell, dear Madame Schommer; but I will come again, and perhaps I may be so happy as to find in your place the enchanting Dorris Ritter, that sentimental young maiden of the past, who loved the crown prince so passionately, and was so well pleased to receive his love and his presents."

She still lay without movement on the floor, and little Anna, kneeling by her side, was praying for bread. "That is your mother, Madame Schommer?" asked the strange gentleman, looking curiously at the pale woman. "Yes, that is my mother," said the boy. "Mother, mother, wake up!" said he, covering her face with kisses. "Wake up, I do not believe what father said. I will love you! He was drunk!

Pricker had not considered it beneath his dignity to descend to the street door, where he took his stand surrounded by his assistants and apprentices. "It is said the king has gone into the house of Schommer, the grocer," said one of his assistants, returning from a reconnoissance he had made among the noisy and gossiping multitude. Mr. Pricker shook his head gravely.

But this house, with its imposing inscription, was also surrounded by dirty, miserable cabins. In its immediate neighborhood was the small house which has already been described as the dwelling of poor Anna Schommer.

He opened the door, and there stood not his father but a richly-dressed gentleman, who, with a friendly gesture, pushed the boy aside and entered the shop. "I want some tobacco, my little fellow," said he; "therefore call Mr. Schommer to give me some from his best canister." "My father is not at home," said the boy, staring at the handsome, friendly gentleman.

"Well, I did not come precisely on his account," said the gentleman, with a strange laugh. "Call your mother, Madame Schommer, and tell her I wish to make a purchase." "Mother is lying in the back room on the floor, and I believe she is dead!" said Karl, sobbing. The gentleman looked at him with amazement. "Did you say dead? That would be very inconvenient, for I have greatly counted on her life.