Uncle

Where might the burgomaster of Meerane be bound, all resplendent in his uniform of office, at this grey hour of a nipping winter's day? Perhaps off to dine with a dignitary, maybe some great dignitary up at Altenburg or over in Glauchau. No, he seemed too excited even for that. How his whiskers trembled! How his eyes danced! The burghers of Meerane followed him down the street.

In front of the butcher shop, Marie Drazdorf, maid-of-all-work, paid not the slightest heed to the growing procession. She must get the...

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