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HEY called her Anna of the Forest Castle all along both sides of the river. Nobody would call her the forester's Annchen; they thought she deserved a grander name, for Annchen was very beautiful. She was but little more than fifteen years old. Hitherto her great dreamy, child-like eyes had looked openly and fearlessly out into the world and at all mankind, but just about that time the long lashes would droop and fall, and the girl became very quiet and reserved. It was only the hungry beggar who was favoured with a kindly glance from the bright star-like eyes, as she put a piece of bread into his hand. She would give no look of greeting, hardly even a civil word, to any of the men of high standing, or the gay, handsome young fellows who, coming from afar, stopped in passing at the door of the forester's lowly hut; and if she did sometimes vouchsafe a word or two to any of the youths, it was sure to be something sharp and cutting as a knife, and many a brave young fellow felt deeply wounded thereby.

On the other side of the river lived a youth who did not think that title grand enough. Anna was the only maiden in all the country round about who would not look at him, and yet he was the handsomest young fellow in the whole neighbourhood. He was past eighteen, the only son of the manager of the well-known ironworks over on the other side, and his name was Otto. He was away studying at the Gymnasium, but when he was at home for the vacation he was always out and about with horses and dogs, lording it over the other young fellows and teasing the girls.

It was the lovely time of spring, and the feast of Whitsuntide was at hand. Anna's parents were about to celebrate their silver wedding. The little church was to be specially decorated in their honour, and there were to be great doings all round about; many in the village had ordered new clothes for the occasion, and new shoes for dancing. Being the merry month of May wreaths and nosegays would be provided in plenty.

At the manager's house, on the other side of the river, all was bustle and life. He it was who was getting up the little fête for the forester and his wife, and the rooms