Disclaimer in chapter one.

Author's note: Another chapter finished. Hope you'll like it.

To write this chapter I googled a lot about Albania. It looks really nice there. They have a lot of rather impressive national parks. Makes me want to go there for a hiking trip. That would be nice right now.

I'm so glad to know that some people are reading my story. With every review I get from you guys, I do a little dance… at least a mental one ;) I'm really sorry I didn't manage to reply on every review, but I do read each and every one of them (probably twice). So, thank you a lot:

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Chapter Three: She neither Hears nor Sees

Riddle stepped into the green flames roaring in the fireplace and said smoothly,

"Rruga e Magjisë, Tirana."

Immediately he disappeared in a ball of green flames. Tirana, hm? Hermione wondered. Until now, she had had no idea where exactly in Albania they were going. She dragged a huge backpack with her as she stepped into the fireplace and cried the same destination Riddle had used, grateful that she had been able to remember the street's name.

Many miles away from Malfoy manor, Hermione stumbled out of another fireplace. It was one of many in a row. In front of the fireplaces people stood in long queues, waiting for their turn. A plump man in a dark blue uniform collected coins and gave out tickets in return. Obviously this was a public connection to the floo network. The building really looked a little like some kind of railway station, Hermione thought as she looked up at the domed ceiling.

The man in uniform stepped over to Riddle and Draco. Draco gave the man a few galleons. The man smiled friendly and accepted the money. Riddle turned and, without saying anything, purposefully strode over to the exit. Draco immediately trailed behind him. Neither Riddle nor Draco made any move to take care of their luggage.

Not that I'm surprised, Hermione thought dryly while eyeing the huge backpack in distaste. She tried to lift it, having preferred to drag it up to this point. It was quite heavy. She struggled for a moment but finally managed to tie it to her back. Not for the first time this day, Hermione cursed silently. Groaning softly, she hurried after Riddle and Draco. Both had already ventured a good distance and had reached the exit. As quickly as her cargo allowed, Hermione tried to close up to them and soon stepped out of the building. From the outside it looked like a run-down, abandoned factory and was left unnoticed by the passers-by on the pavement. Hermione stood in front of a rather large avenue which was heavily trafficked.

A few quick steps and she finally caught up to Riddle and Draco. Riddle still strode determinedly down the pavement. He obviously had a destination in mind and Draco seemed to be content with leaving the lead to Riddle. Either way, Hermione didn't really care. The straps of the heavy backpack cut painfully in her shoulders. She tried to ignore it and took in her surroundings. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had visited the Muggle part of any city. A small smile on her face, she watched the cars rushing by on the street.

There were a few other people walking on the same pavement and Hermione tried to avoid eye contact with them. They were probably all Muggles but she didn't want to risk annoying a wizard by her staring. With unease she noticed that some of the passers-by stared at her or pointed at her heavy backpack. One man even frowned and shook his head indignantly. It made Hermione feel insecure. A little while later she realized that those people weren't looking at her so disapprovingly but at Riddle and Draco. Obviously the other passers-by didn't understand why Hermione had to carry the huge backpack while her two male companions didn't help her.

Hermione smiled. Albania was a rather nice country, she decided. At the very least she liked the Muggle population.

†

A good solid fifteen minutes later, Riddle finally stopped. They stood in a rather small dirty alley right in front of a dingy old building. Hermione could spy a grime-covered sign over one of the house entrances: Bar.

"What?" Draco's appalled voice griped. "Why are we here, Tom?"

Riddle turned around to Draco. His face was its usual emotionless blank as he surveyed the other.

"Why? What's wrong?" he finally asked, forced calm in his voice.

Draco stared at Riddle as if he had sprouted an extra head. Then he whispered in disgust, "It's a Muggle bar."

Riddle looked at him with his piercing blue eyes. Then he shrugged and suggested in a bored tone,

"Well, I've some business to take care of. You can wait here if you want to."

Then he entered the building. For a second Draco stood there and stared at the Bar's entrance, trying to process how a wizard could willingly enter a Muggle pub. He turned his head and scanned the dirty backstreet. After a moment of inner struggle Draco finally stepped over the entrance to the pub. With an expression of a martyr on his face, he entered.

Hermione hesitated shortly but then followed Draco and stepped into the twilight of the pub. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and loud music played somewhere. The room was rather small but a lot of people sat around creaky old tables, drinking beer and talking loudly.

Hermione blinked, her eyes burning from the smoke, and she tried to make out Riddle and Draco. After a moment she spotted them. Riddle elegantly lounged at a table on the other side of the room. Draco just slipped into the bench opposite from him. Hermione quickly walked over to them. As she reached their table she placed the heavy backpack on the floor and remained standing, awaiting any possible orders. Draco completely ignored her and scanned the pub, disgust on his face. Riddle's piercing blue eyes fell on Hermione and he ordered calmly,

"Sit down."

Draco's eyes widened with indignation and he hissed, "She's a Mudblood. She's certainly not sitting at a table with us."

Riddle turned his gaze at Draco. A sharp frown had appeared between his eyebrows and he said, anger hidden in his tone,

"This is a Muggle bar. I don't want people to get suspicious of us. Having her-" He gestured at Hermione. "-standing around like this won't help us keeping a low profile."

Seeing the irritation flitter across Riddle's face, Draco quickly submitted,

"Of course."

Hermione was dumbfounded by the authority Riddle doubtlessly had over her vain, big-headed master. She couldn't dwell on it longer as Riddle's smouldering eyes landed on her again and he stared at her expectantly. Instantly she slipped on the bench beside him. Head bent, Hermione sat at the edge of the bench as far away from Riddle as possible. She didn't want to anger him with her presence. Unfortunately the bench was rather small. Hermione couldn't help it but her leg brushed against Riddle's. Luckily, though, he didn't even seem to notice the contact. Instead Riddle was scanning the room, obviously searching for someone. Sure enough, it didn't take long and he waved someone over to their table. An old hunchbacked woman came slowly limping towards them. Her white hair stood unkempt from her head and her weather-beaten skin was lined deeply.

"Mirëdita," the old woman said as she reached the table.

Riddle inclined his head. "A good day to you, too."

Without having received an invitation the woman plopped into the seat beside Draco who eyed her suspiciously. The old woman ignored the blond but looked at Riddle curiously.

"So, you are that boy Frewin mentioned?" she finally asked.

"Yes, Madame," Riddle replied politely. "Mr. Runcorn recommended your expertise."

The old woman narrowed her eyes at Riddle, not impressed by his charm. Riddle just smiled disarmingly and waved over the barmaid. A woman with black wavy hair and a grey apron stepped over to them.

"Four beers, please."

The barmaid nodded shortly and hurried away with their order. While Riddle continued to small talk with the old lady Hermione could barely listen. Shock washed over her.

Had he just ordered four beers?

Soon later the barmaid came back to their table. Sure enough she carried four bottles on her tray, the golden emblem proclaiming them as 'Birra Korça'. The harassed looking barmaid placed the bottles in front of her four guests and Riddle quickly paid. Hermione sat stock-still on the bench and stared at the bottle in front of her. Had Riddle, a wizard, really bought something for her? Slightly she turned her head and stared at him. He already took a sip from his bottle and smiled suavely as he talked with the old lady. It took Hermione some time to get over the shock of having been invited on a drink by a wizard. So, she had missed parts of the conversation by the time she dropped back in.

"-when she refused to come along. He gave in to his anger and struck her down with his knife," the old lady said, her enthusiasm not fitting to the sad nature of her story.

Obviously the beer had put her in a more talkative mood. The suspicious frown at disappeared from her wrinkled face as she took a deep swig from her bottle. Riddle toasted to her, an easy smile on his face. Despite the amiable lightness cheerfully hovering around him, Hermione couldn't help but notice that sharp glint in Riddle's blue eyes as he watched the old woman like a hawk.

The old lady put her bottle back on the table and continued her story, "As he came to himself and saw what he had done, he took his own life in remorse."

An attractive smile played around Riddle's lips as he inquired politely, "Did her mother ever retrieve Helena's body?"

The old lady cackled as she heard the question. Her eyes glinted amused and she obviously enjoyed Riddle's interest in her story.

"After Helena died her mother was devastated," the old woman explained happily and took another sip of beer. "Grief overwhelmed her at the loss of her only child. Still, there was guilt as well. Guilt because she had sent the baron after Helena. She blamed herself for her daughter's death."

The old lady giggled merrily and concluded, "Maybe it was the guilt that then stopped Rowena from ever visiting the resting place of her daughter."

Riddle raised his eyebrows innocently and asked, "So Rowena never went and took back the Diadem?"

The woman shook her head, her wiry grey hair dancing on her head. "No. She left her daughter's body and the Diadem, that had caused the whole tragedy, in peace. Still, while Rowena never set foot on that place, legend says that she spoke a powerful spell over it." The old woman looked at Riddle pointedly as she added, "That spell will break down on everyone who wants to disturb Helena's last resting place."

Riddle hummed in agreement. His blue eyes shone with harmless interest as he asked, "Do you know where that place is?"

A harsh laugh left the old lady and she replied, "If you intend to procure that Diadem, be warned others have tried before and no-one ever returned from that quest."

Riddle nodded. "Of course. But I still would like to see that place where history has been made." He blinked at the woman with huge eyes and said, honesty tinting his words, "I would never violate such a sacred place. I just want to visit it."

The old woman scanned him, a suspicious frown between her eyebrows. Then she cleared her throat before she said seriously,

"I don't know where you can find Helena's grave. No-one knows. There are just rumours, nothing more."

"Please," Riddle whispered gently. "If you know anything… anything at all, I would be delighted to hear."

His voice had been nothing more than a soft plea, still the old woman seemed to hesitate. Riddle leaned a bit forward in his seat and reached with a hand over the table. He gingerly grasped the woman's hand and looked her deep in the eyes as he said,

"I know how people crave for the power of Rowena's creation. But I swear that is not what's driving me towards this sad story. I want to see Helena's grave just to be a little closer to someone who has influenced history so much."

Riddle's hand pressed the old lady's as he stared at her urgently.

"Please."

If there had still been suspicion in the old woman's eyes, the last rest of it was now driven away by that completely innocent look in Riddle's blue eyes. She nodded slightly and whispered,

"It is true what I said. There are only rumours but I will tell you about them. Maybe they can help you."

There was a fond smile on the woman's face as she eyed Riddle and continued, "It was in a small village in the east, where I've heard the story about Zonja Gri… the Grey Lady. It was a small village that lay right at the edge of a huge forest. The people from the village never ventured very deep into that forest - especially not after nightfall. They say that the woods are haunted by a ghost. A woman, clad in a grey dress, wanders the forest at night. The woman is breathtakingly beautiful with shiny long hair and fair skin. Each night she wanders the forest and cries heartbreakingly. It is said that her tears can pull any man down into her grief. Driven into insanity the man will choose to kill himself to be able to escape the sorrow."

The woman nodded gravely and took another sip from her bottle. Riddle then asked hesitantly,

"Can you tell me how to get to that village?"

"The people living in the village were very poor," the woman said. "To escape their poverty many of them moved away, into bigger cities. Only the old stayed. As they died, the village disappeared with them."

She eyed Riddle for a moment before she suggested, "Do you have a map? I could show you where that village once stood."

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

With a soft pop, Hermione appeared at the edge of a forest. Immediately her feet sunk into five inches of snow. Sneakily the cold already seeped through her thin shoes. She felt the hand releasing her shoulder from its tight grip. Hermione turned her head and peered up at Riddle. That had been the first time a wizard had taken her along in apparition and not the other way around. Hermione had no idea who Riddle was or what he even wanted here, but she had a strange feeling about him. He was an odd one, that was for sure.

Riddle neither paid her nor Draco any attention, instead he scanned the surroundings through narrowed eyes. Hermione looked around herself. The landscape was rough and wild. No-one was around here, the area completely uninhabited. They stood at the edge of a snow-covered forest. The woodland seemed to stretch on for miles and miles. Only in the far distance Hermione could see rutted mountains, impressively towering over everything.

Hermione saw how Riddle clenched his hands into tight fists as he stared at the seemingly endless forest. Whatever his task was, it had got a lot more difficult right now, hadn't it? Hermione wondered what he wanted from that Helena person the old woman in the bar had mentioned. Somehow she doubted that Riddle really only wanted to visit a grave here. Finally Riddle averted his eyes from the endless forest. Hermione stiffened as his frosty eyes came to land on her.

"Set up the tent," he ordered her sharply.

Hermione quickly bowed her head. "Yes, Master Riddle."

"Wait," Draco said as Riddle pulled his wand, preparing to apparate. "Where are you going?"

Riddle glared at him in annoyance but still replied curtly, "To Baldreti."

Draco furrowed his brow. "What's that?"

Riddle rolled his eyes and snapped, "A village, if you must know."

"And what do you want there?" Draco asked cautiously, trying not to anger the other anymore.

Riddle's gaze wandered back to the seemingly endless woodland. As he replied, doubt laced his words as if he already knew the excursion would be fruitless,

"Information."

"Okay," Draco conceded and stepped over to Riddle. "I'll accompany you."

Riddle furrowed his brow in exacerbation but before he could snap anything, Draco obviated submissively,

"I'm only here to help."

Hermione couldn't help but raise her eyebrows in disbelief as she heard that uncharacteristic sentence fall from his mouth. Fortunately for her, Draco didn't notice the scepticism displayed on her face. Riddle, though, did. Hermione hastily rearranged her features into a polite mask. For a second, in which she was too afraid to even breathe, Riddle's piercing eyes stayed on her. Then his hard gaze left her and Hermione released a long breath of air.

"Then get moving," Riddle ordered, waving Draco over to him.

A triumphant glint in Draco's eyes, he stepped over to Riddle. Riddle impatiently grabbed the other's forearm. A swirl of his black cloak and Hermione was left behind alone. For a moment she only stared into the forest's undergrowth and Minky's words echoed through her head.

'Give them the slip.'

A soft chuckle left Hermione. How very tempting. She could just wander into the woods and would never been heard of again. A heavy sigh left her. Then Hermione wrenched the huge backpack from her back and opened it. It would have to remain a dream, Hermione thought sadly as she tugged the tent from the backpack. She could almost feel the ugly mark on der left forearm burning threateningly. Even amidst this beautiful wilderness she still was a prisoner.

Quickly Hermione unpacked the tent and then began to set it up. A cold wind relentlessly tugged at her and she shivered miserably. Her hands had already turned red from the cold and hurt as she tied down the ropes that held the small tent in place. A sigh left her as Hermione threw a last longing glance at the endless forest. Then she grabbed the backpack and wrenched it into the tent. Interestedly she scanned the tent's interior. Of course it was a magical tent and the room she found inside was impossibly spacious. In front of a fireplace at one side of the room, was a sitting area with a couch and lush armchairs. On the opposite side on a little dais stood two beds, the space divided by thick curtains. Hermione pulled the backpack further into the room as she let her eyes wander. There was a small kitchenette right beside the entrance, complete with cupboards, cooker and sink.

As the two wizards were still no-where to be seen, Hermione investigated the tent some more. She found a generous stock of foods stored away in the cupboard of the kitchenette. Hermione strolled away from the kitchenette and over to the sitting area. She pulled her bright-red, capped wand and waved it at the fireplace, intending to lit a fire. As always the stupid wand was reluctant to let her magic pass. Hermione had to wave it a few times before it obeyed and sparked a small fire. Frustrated, she turned away and spotted a door. Hermione opened it and found a small bathroom with a little shower cabin. She sighed as she closed the door and again let her eyes wander over the room. This was like a one-room apartment. Hermione didn't look forward to live here for Merlin knew how long with two wizards and no room to escape them.

Listlessly she carried the backpack over to the two beds and started to unpack Draco's things. She un-shrank his belongings and carefully stored his clothes away in the wardrobe, standing right beside one of the beds. After that she took the black bag, containing Riddle's things, and un-shrank it. Just as she put the bag down on his bed a book slipped from it and landed with a soft thud on the floor. Hermione blinked down at the book and curiosity started to tug at her.

Cautiously she edged closer to that book. Hermione hesitantly stooped down and let her fingers skim over the book's spine. A small smile appeared on her face as she felt that rush of excitement she always experienced when she touched an unknown book. Nervously she turned her head. Draco and Riddle were still no-where to be seen. Hermione worried her lower lip and stared back at the book. Could she dare to risk a short peek? Slowly her fingers clasped the book and she picked it up. It was a thick tome, bound in black leather. The pages were gilded and the title was written in the same gold colour: Conditoribus.

'To the founders', Hermione mused. Founders? What founders?

There was only one way to get an answer to that question, so Hermione opened the book. It didn't have any table of contents but its pages were lettered in a beautiful calligraphy. Doubtlessly the book was very old and probably very valuable, too. Hermione gingerly turned the page, still enchanted by the delicate craftsmanship. A soft gasp left her as she looked at the next page. There was an image, drawn by a very talented hand. Somehow magic must have been used to enhance the picture as it radiated a serene glow. A golden cup was shown on the picture. On the cup the artist had depicted an animal. It looked like a racoon… or maybe a badger. Hermione couldn't tell. Driven by her curiosity, she started to read what was written below the image but suddenly a deep voice cut through the silence of the tent,

"Is it a good read?"

Hermione gasped softly. Quickly she snapped the book shut and put it on the bedside table with trembling hands. Then she turned around. Hermione's heart clenched in fear as she saw Riddle, casually leaned against the doorframe. His face was completely expressionless, but for an inquiringly arched eyebrow. Draco was no-where to be seen, Hermione noticed. Probably lost in his abysmal Apparation abilities. Feeling Riddle's gaze on herself, Hermione stumbled a step away from the book. Fear built up quickly as Riddle's icy blue eyes cut into her.

"I… I just wanted to… clean up, Master Riddle," Hermione stuttered weakly, hoping that he would buy the excuse.

To her utter surprise dark amusement lit up Riddle's eyes as he heard her. He pushed away from the doorframe and slowly walked over to her. A shuddered breath escaped Hermione's lips and she quickly lowered her head. She didn't dare to move as Riddle stopped beside her and took the book from the table. He easily flipped through the pages. Then he asked lightly, doubt seeping through his voice,

"Can you even read?"

Fear still coursed through her but Hermione timidly raised her face at him. Riddle scanned her interestedly. She considered lying, but found that she couldn't open her mouth and proclaim that indeed she was an illiterate.

"Y- yes, Master Riddle," Hermione replied softly.

Riddle's incredibly blue eyes slowly wandered over her and Hermione had to stop herself from shying away from that intense scrutiny.

"Really?" he said sceptically. "And where did you learn it?"

He looked at her as if he thought she were incapable of learning anything at all. Hermione replied in a soft voice,

"In school, Master Riddle."

"I see." He placed the book back on the side-table and remarked condescendingly, "In a Muggle school I assume."

"Yes," Hermione whispered cautiously.

Riddle flicked his blue eyes back at her and he tilted his head quizzically. "How many years did you go to school?"

"Four years, Master Riddle," Hermione replied dutifully, keeping the sadness from her voice.

"Only four years? And in a Muggle school?" Riddle sneered disdainfully. He gestured to the book and told her coldly, "Someone like you will never understand the theory behind books like this. It's pathetic that you even tried."

Hermione's eyes widened as she was hit with the conviction behind his words. Normally statements like that didn't faze her at all. So she was surprised that Riddle's contempt made anger well up inside her. Hermione had her eyes downcast as she replied exactly how it was expected from her,

"You are right, Master Riddle. I shouldn't have touched the book. I am sorry."

The words left Hermione with a filthy feeling creeping over her. She gritted her teeth and stared down at her shoes. Riddle didn't reply anything but suddenly there were two fingers under her chin, tilting her face up. Hermione's heart raced in her chest as Riddle forced her to look at him. His pale face was an unreadable mask as his blue eyes slowly wandered over her, making her feel horribly exposed. Fear painfully pounded through Hermione and she wanted to cower away from Riddle. His cold eyes locked with hers and she trembled as she saw an odd gleam threateningly glowing in them. Completely intimidated by him, Hermione didn't dare to move as Riddle's fingers left her chin and gently skimmed down her neck. His fingers still softly touched her as suddenly a cruel smirk curled Riddle's lips. He opened his mouth and whispered, malice dripping from his voice,

"You should be sorry, little Mudblood. The next time I see you touching my things with your dirty fingers, I will make you regret it."

Suddenly Riddle's hand brutally closed around her throat and a fearful whimper left Hermione. His fingers cruelly choked her and she helplessly struggled for air. Riddle bent down to her and Hermione could feel his breath playing over her skin as he whispered into her ear, his voice deathly cold,

"Did I make myself clear, Mudblood?"

Hermione could barely breathe and fear curled vice-like around her chest. As Riddle's hand threateningly tightened again, she tried to press out hoarsely,

"Y- yes… Master Riddle…."

With that he released Hermione and she gasped for air, her hands holding her aching neck. Riddle didn't say any more but grabbed the book and swept away. He gracefully sat down on the couch at the other side of the room and started to read, his face an impenetrable mask. Nothing indicated that he had just uttered a death threat.

Hermione, left to her own devices, stood where he had left her. Her whole body trembled and she could still feel where his hand had clenched around her throat. His cold voice echoed through her head, making fear consume her completely. 'I will make you regret it.' Hermione didn't doubt for a second that he would. Not even Lucius Malfoy had ever managed to throw her in such a panic.

It was then that the door was ripped open and Draco stepped into the tent, bringing with him a gush of cold wind,

"Damn," he cursed.

Hermione, still trapped in her fear, slightly turned her head and looked at Draco. Twigs were tousled in his blond hair and his shoes and pants were soaking wet from molten snow. He obviously had missed his destination and had apparated wrongly. There was a sour look on Draco's face as he stomped into the tent. Hermione cringed as she saw the dirt he was scattering on the floor. It seemed she would have to scrub the floor later. Draco shrugged off his wet cloak and carelessly tossed it at Hermione.

"Clean that!" he ordered her roughly.

"Yes, Master," Hermione quickly replied.

She still felt quite shaky and carefully folded the cloak that now managed to drip water on her own clothes. Draco narrowed his eyes at her and snapped curtly,

"And make something for dinner. I'm starving."

Hermione bowed her head obediently. Draco didn't say anymore but stalked over to the bathroom, continuing to curse under his breath. An evil grin appeared on Riddle's face and he suggested, sweet venom in his voice,

"You should have paid more attention during the Apparition lessons. Now stop making such a racket, I'm trying to read."

Draco didn't reply anything but entered the bathroom. Shortly later the shower could be heard running. Hermione avoided to look in Riddle's direction as she walked over to the kitchenette where she started to prepare dinner.

Sometime later, Hermione stirred a merrily boiling vegetable stew, Draco re-emerged from the bathroom. She shortly glanced at him and found that he didn't look like a wet ferret anymore. Ruffling his still damp hair, Draco stalked over to her and Hermione quickly averted her eyes.

"What is that supposed to be?" Draco asked in disgust as he eyed the stew Hermione was cooking.

"Dinner, Master," she stated the obvious.

Draco wrinkled his nose. Hermione thought it was a perfectly fine stew, but she knew how spoilt Draco was. Obviously Riddle wasn't as choosy when it came to food as he had been the one who had stocked the supplies. Cautiously Hermione glanced at him. Riddle was still sitting on the couch and read his book. She shuddered as her eyes wandered over him.

†

Hermione tried to ignore her angrily rumbling stomach. The stew was gone. In the end, Draco hadn't seemed to mind it too much and had wolfed it down. Neither him nor Riddle had thought to leave anything for Hermione. In Malfoy manor that had never been a huge problem. Although food was scarce, Hermione and Minky had always managed to steal enough in the kitchen. Sadly enough, Hermione couldn't risk snitching food here. It was too high a risk in the close space of the tent. Draco or, even worse, Riddle might notice when something was missing.

The tent was dived in darkness and Hermione could hear the soft breathing coming from its other two occupants. She already hated the tent. There wasn't even a place for her to sleep. Not even the smallest of cots nor any blankets. Quietly, as to avoid waking the others, Hermione passed the kitchenette and tiptoed to the corner on its right. A small rug lay there on the floor. Tiredly Hermione sank down on the rug. She wrapped her thin black robe tightly around herself, and curled into a ball. Her stomach still rumbled, the floor was unbearably cold, even with the rug, and her neck hurt, probably bruised.

Maybe I shouldn't rule out Minky's insane escape plan, Hermione thought dryly. It can't possibly get any worse.

Cursing silently, she pulled the little encyclopaedia of charms out of her robe pocket and opened it. Unfortunately, it was so dark in the tent, she could not decipher a single word. Damn!

Hermione never thought the day would come but she somehow missed Malfoy manor.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

No motion has she now, no force;

She neither hears nor sees;

Roll'd round in earth's diurnal course,

With rocks, and stones, and trees.

- William Wordsworth

(*1770 †1850)