The Nutcracker and the Mouse-King. E. T. A. Hoffmann
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It was almost midnight and Godfather Drosselmeier had been gone for a long time, and still Fritz and Marie could not come away from the cupboard, although their mother was urging them to go to bed. “It is true,” called Fritz, “the poor hussars also want to rest, for while I am here not one even dares to nod, I am certain of that.”
With that he departed, but Marie was begging, “Just a little while longer; let me stay here, Mother, as I have several things to attend to; and when they are done, I will go to bed at once.”
As Marie was a sensible and obedient child her mother could leave her with the playthings without worrying about her. To guard against her being so engrossed in the new doll that she might forget the lights, her mother extinguished all those around the cupboard, and left burning only the lamp that was suspended from the ceiling in the middle of the room which gave a soft mellow light.
“Go to bed soon, dear, or you will not be able to get up in time tomorrow morning,” called her mother, as she went into her bedroom.
As soon as Marie found she was alone, she began to do the things so dear to her heart. She still had the injured Nutcracker in her arm, wrapped in her handkerchief, and now she laid him carefully on the table, unwrapped him and looked after his wounds. Nutcracker was very pale, and smiled so sadly that Marie became sad herself.
MARIE LOOKED AT THE BEAUTIFUL PICTURES.
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