"How did you come by this letter?"
"Her serene highness is patron to Gretchen, the goose-girl, at whose request the recommendation was given me."
This altered matters. "Follow me," said Hoffman.
The two entered the office.
"Can you write?"
"A little, Herr."
"Then write your name on this piece of paper and that. Each night you will present yours with the number of pounds, which will be credited to you. You must bring it back each morning. If you lose it you will be paid nothing for your labor."
Dietrich wrote his name twice. It was rather hard work, for he screwed up his mouth and cramped his fingers. Still, Hoffman was not wholly satisfied with his eyes.
"Gottlieb," he said to one of the men, "take him to terrace ninety-eight. That hasn't been touched yet. We'll see what sort of workman he is." He spoke to Dietrich again. "What is Gretchen to you?" For Hoffman knew Gretchen; many a time she had filled her basket and drawn her crowns.
"She is my sweetheart, Herr." And there was no mockery in the youth's eyes as he said this.