He threw himself forward, and hid his face once more in his stretched-out arms, resting upon the table as heretofore. She heard him whisper; she bent tenderly down to listen. "I don't know; don't tell me it is Frederick--not Frederick. I cannot bear it,--I am too weak. And his mother is dying!"

 then hid his face once more, whispering:
'Don't tell me it is Frederick. I cannot bear it - I am too weak. And his mother is dying!' 