Gossamer Cord

Incident in the Forest

WHEN I LOOK BACK I can see that it all began one morning at breakfast in our home at Caddington Hall when my mother said casually, looking up from the letter which she was reading: “Edward has asked that German boy to stay with them for a holiday in England.”

“I expect he will bring him over to see us,” replied my father.

I was always interested in what Edward was doing. I thought he was such a romantic person because of his origins. My mother had been at school in Belgium when the war broke out, and she had had to leave that country in a hurry because of the advancing German armies. Edward’s parents had been killed by a bomb when it fell on their house which was close by the school, and the dying mother had extracted a promise from my mother that she would take the child with her to England; and this had been done.

Edward was always full of gratitude to my mother—understandably so, for what could he have hoped for from an invading army or fleeing refugees with themselves to care for and who might not have had much time to spare for a helpless baby.

He lived usually with my maternal grandparents at Marchlands, their estate in Essex, or in the London family home in Westminster. My grandfather had been a Member of Parliament—a tradition in the Greenham family—and now my uncle Charles had taken over the seat.

Edward was about twenty-two years of age at this time; he was going to be a lawyer, and he was, of course, just like any other member of the family.

My young brother, Robert, was saying that he expected Edward would pay a return visit to his friend in Germany.

“I wish I could go,” he said. “It must be wonderful. They have Beer Gardens and they are always fighting duels. They don’t think much of men until they have a scar received in a duel, and it has to be on the face so that everyone can see it.”

My mother smiled at him indulgently. “I can’t believe that is so, darling,” she said.

“I know it is because I heard it somewhere.”

“You shouldn’t believe all you hear,” said my sister Dorabella.

Robert grimaced and retorted: “And you…you’re such a know-all.”

“Now,” put in my mother, “don’t let’s quarrel about it. I hope we shall see Edward and this…er…” She looked at the letter. “…Kurt,” she went on. “Kurt Brandt.”

“It sounds rather German,” commented Robert.

“What a surprise!” mocked Dorabella.

It was the summer holidays and a typical morning and the family was all together for breakfast.

I can picture that morning clearly now that I know how important it was.

My father, Sir Robert Denver, sat at the head of the table. He was a wonderful man and I loved him dearly. He was different from any man I had ever known. There was not a trace of arrogance about him. On the other hand, he was rather self-effacing. My mother used to chide him about it; but she loved him for it all the same. He was gentle, kind, and I think, best of all, utterly to be relied on.

He had inherited the title on the death of his father not long before. My grandfather and he had been very much alike—entirely lovable—and it had been a great blow to us all when my grandfather died.

My grandmother Belinda lived with us. We always called her Grandmother Belinda to distinguish her from Grandmother Lucie. She did not come to breakfast but took hers in her room. She was quite different from my grandfather and father. Autocratic in the extreme, she demanded attention and took a mild yet cynical interest in family affairs, while being completely absorbed in herself; but at the same time she managed to be very fascinating. She was beautiful, still with magnificent black hair which had miraculously—or perhaps cleverly—not lost its color, and deep blue eyes which invariably seemed amused and a trifle mischievous. Dorabella and my brother were a little in awe of her; and I know I was.

So on this occasion there were only Dorabella, my brother, myself, and our parents.

Dorabella and I were twins and between us there was that special bond which is often there with such people. We were not identical, although there was a close physical resemblance. The differences had been brought about by our characters, because my mother said that when we were babies, it was difficult to tell us apart. But now that we were sixteen—or should be in October—the resemblance had faded.

Dorabella was more frivolous than I; she was impulsive, whereas I was inclined to pause for thought before I took action. She had an air of fragility, whereas I was sturdy; there was a certain helplessness about her which seemed to be attractive to the opposite sex. Men were always at her side, wanting to carry something for her or look after her in some way, whereas I was left to care for myself.

Dorabella relied on me. When we were very young and first went to school, she would be disturbed if we did not sit together. She liked to sidle up to me lovingly while she copied my sums. And later, when we went away to school, we were closer than ever. There was no doubt that there was a deep affinity between us.

Immediately after the war had ended, my father had come back from France; that was in 1918. He and my mother were married and in the October of the following year Dorabella and I were born.

At the time my mother had been fascinated by the opera. It must have been exciting when they came to London after four years of restrictions and privations and constant fear for their loved ones, and used my grandparents’ house in Westminster as their home. During that time they wanted to relish all that they had missed. My mother had always loved the opera; it became a passion of hers during this time, and she had the romantic notion of naming us after characters in two of their favorites. So I became Violetta from La Traviata and my sister, Dorabella from Così fan tutte.

My grandmother had once laughingly said that she would have protested at Turandot.

Our brother, who was born about three years after us, had to be Robert, because there was always a Robert in the family, which did make it a little difficult at times to know which one was being referred to. But tradition had to be obeyed.

True to our expectations, Edward came to visit us, bringing Kurt Brandt with him.

It was a lovely summer’s day in mid-August when they arrived. We were all waiting for him and when we heard the car come into the courtyard my mother, with Dorabella, Robert, and myself, ran down to greet him.

Edward leaped out of the car and I saw his eyes go to my mother. They embraced. I guessed that when he met her after an absence he thought of how she had brought him out of danger when he was a helpless baby. It had made a special bond between them, and I believe my mother thought of him as one of her children.

A young man of about Edward’s age got out of the car and came toward us.

“This is Kurt…Kurt Brandt,” said Edward. “I have told him about you all.”

He looked slight beside Edward and very dark because Edward was so tall and fair. He stood very straight before my mother, clicked his heels, took her hand, and kissed it. Then he turned to Dorabella and me and did the same. He shook Robert’s hand, which rather disappointed my brother who would have liked the clicking of heels, if not the hand kissing.

My mother said how delighted she was to see Edward and his friend and she led them into the house, for which Kurt Brandt expressed his admiration in good but accented English. The house was very ancient and dated back to the fifteenth century, and people were often impressed by it when they first saw it—so there was nothing unusual about that.

My father joined us for luncheon. Usually he was busy on the estate, but this was a special occasion and my mother had asked him to make an effort to be there.

Kurt Brandt told us that his home was in Bavaria. There was an old schloss which had been in the family for years.

“Not so big…not so grand as this house,” he said modestly. “Schloss sounds grand, but there are many such in Germany. Castles…but very small. Ours is an inn now—and has been for some years. Then there were bad times…the war…and after…it was not easy…”

I thought of my father, who had been decorated for bravery during that war, and remembered that he would have been fighting against Kurt’s father. But it was all over now.

“Tell us about the forest,” said my mother.

How glowingly he spoke of his homeland! I could see how much he loved it. We listened entranced and, seen through his eyes, the forest seemed an enchanted place. He told us how, during the autumn, the mists arose suddenly—bluish mists which shrouded the pine trees suddenly without warning so that even those who were familiar with the place could lose their way. About the necks of the cows which belonged to the few farms scattered on the wooded slopes were bells which tinkled as the cows moved, and so the sound gave their owners an idea of where they were.

He was a fascinating talker, and Edward sat back smiling because his guest was a success. It was an excellent beginning, not that the rest was disappointing.

Edward was eager to show him something of our country and, as one of his passions at the moment was his new motorcar, he insisted on driving us somewhere each day.

We went to Portsmouth so that Kurt might see Admiral Nelson’s battleship; we explored far beyond our neighborhood; then Kurt must see the New Forest, where William the Conqueror had hunted; and after that to Stonehenge, which was of an even earlier period.

We would return each day and chatter over dinner of what we had seen.

During that time we had come to know Kurt very well. We used to sit for a long time over dinner because the talk was too interesting to be cut short. If the weather was hot, we ate out of doors. We had a courtyard shut in by red brick walls with creeper climbing over them and a pear tree in one corner. It was an ideal place for an alfresco meal.

I think Kurt enjoyed that visit as much as we did. He told us a great deal about the difficulties of life in his country after the war. There had been great struggles. The inn had had to be closed for a time and it was not very long since it had been reopened.

“Visitors come now,” he said. “They did not come during the bad years immediately after the war.”

“It is the people who have no say in making wars who suffer most from the consequences of them,” commented my father.

We were solemn for a while and then were laughing again.

We made Kurt tell us more about the forest, his home, and his family.

He had a brother Helmut and a sister Gretchen. They helped his parents manage the inn.

“Helmut will have the inn in due course,” he added. “For he is my elder brother.”

“And you will be with him?” asked my mother.

“I think perhaps it may be necessary.”

No more was said on the subject. My mother probably thought it would be prying to ask too many questions.

It was the last night. Dorabella, Robert, and I would be going back to school in two days’ time. Dorabella and I were in our last year.

We were in the garden and there was that air of sadness among us as there can be when something which has been enjoyable is coming to an end.

“Alas,” Kurt said at length. “Tomorrow I must say goodbye. It has been delightful. Sir Robert and Lady Denver, how can I thank you?”

“Please don’t,” said my mother. “It has been an enormous pleasure for us to have you here. I should thank Edward for bringing you.”

“And you will come to the Böhmerwald one day?”

“Oh, yes please,” cried Dorabella.

“I’ll come,” said Robert. “The trouble is there is this beastly school.”

“There will be holidays,” Edward reminded him.

“I wish you could come back with me,” said Kurt. “This is the best time of the year.”

“I’d like to see that blue mist,” said Dorabella.

“And the cows with bells,” added Robert.

“It would be wonderful,” I added.

“Next year…you must come…all of you.”

“We shall look forward to it all through the year, shan’t we, Violetta?” said Dorabella.

Kurt looked at me and said: “She speaks for you both?”

“She usually does,” I said. “And on this occasion…certainly.”

“Then it shall be,” said Kurt. He lifted his glass. “To next year in the Böhmerwald.”

It was an exciting year for Dorabella and me because it was our last at boarding school. We should be seventeen in the coming October and that was certainly something to set us thinking, so that we forgot about our proposed visit to Germany until at mid-term. Edward was at Caddington and one of the first things he said was that Kurt hadn’t forgotten that we had promised to visit him in the summer. Then, of course, we remembered and it seemed an excellent idea.

We said goodbye to our friends at school, and looked round the tennis courts and the assembly hall for the last time without too many regrets; after all, we had become adults and ahead of us was the prospect of going to Germany.

Robert had been invited to spend the holidays with a friend in Devon, so that disposed of him. This was a relief to my mother who had felt that it would be quite enough for Edward to look after us without having to watch over a high-spirited boy.

My parents drove us down to the coast, and in due course we embarked on the Channel steamer and arrived at the port of Ostend. Dorabella and I were in a state of excitement during the long train journey through Belgium and Germany. Edward, who had done it before, pointed out places of interest as we passed along. We wanted to miss nothing. It grew dark and we slept then, but fitfully, waking now and then to be aware of the movement of the train.

When we finally reached Munich, we were to stay a night, as the train to the small town of Regenshaven would not leave until the next day.

“Then,” the knowledgeable Edward informed us, “we have another long journey, but not, of course, like the one we have just experienced. We should get to Regenshaven before dark and there Kurt will be waiting to take us to the schloss.”

“I can’t wait to get there,” said Dorabella.

“That is something you will have to do,” Edward retorted. “So don’t say you can’t.”

“I mean, I’m just longing to be there.”

“I know,” he replied soothingly. “So are we all.”

It was exciting arriving in the great City. We were taken to the hotel where two rooms had been reserved for us—Dorabella and I sharing.

“Perhaps you would like a rest first,” suggested Edward.

We looked at him in amazement. Rest! When we had come to Munich—a town which had been but printed letters on a map until now!

“All right,” he said. “We’ll have a look round. Just a quick one…because I shall be hungry and looking for sustenance.”

The middle-aged woman at the desk was very affable. She smiled benignly on us and said in deeply accented English that she hoped we should enjoy our stay in Munich.

Edward, who spoke some German and liked to make use of it, told her that we were leaving the next day for Regenshaven.

“Ah,” she cried. “In the forest. That is good…” She pronounced it “goot.” “Wunderbar…wunderbar. You have friends there?”

“Yes, someone I knew at college.”

“That is goot…goot…this friendship. But you must see something of München…only a little, alas…but the goot things. First it is the Cathedral…the Frauenkirche…then the Peterskirche…”

We asked directions, which she gave, smiling benevolently while we thanked her.

It was certainly a fine city and very busy. There were several museums, I noticed, but there was no time to explore them. Edward said we had the afternoon and referred once more to that necessary sustenance.

Everywhere we were met with friendliness. It was fun to ask the way and receive instructions, and in high spirits we returned to the hotel for lunch.

The dining room was full and there was only one table available; this was for six and we were given that.

Hot soup was put before us and, while we were consuming it, the waiter appeared with two young men. He asked our pardon. Edward was concentrating hard to understand him and, with the help of a little miming, we discovered that the young men wanted a meal; there was no place for them, so should we mind if they shared our table? So it was amicably arranged that they should sit with us.

They were tall and blond and we prepared ourselves to enjoy their company and they ours, it seemed. They were interested when they heard we came from England.

They lived on the outskirts of Munich, which was a very big city—they added proudly, in Germany second only to Berlin.

We looked suitably impressed.

They were in the town on business. Things were different now. They had changed since the Führer came to power.

We listened attentively. There were questions I wanted to ask, but it was a little difficult because of the language problem, though they spoke some English and, with Edward’s German, we could reach some understanding.

“We like the English,” they told us.

“We have found the people here very helpful to us,” Edward said.

“But of course.”

I put in: “And we like all we have seen.”

Dorabella was a little silent. She was hurt, I thought, because they did not pay her the attention she was accustomed to receiving from young men. These two seemed to me too earnest for frivolity.

“It is good that you come here,” said one of the young men whose name we discovered was Franz. The other was Ludwig.

“It is good that you see we are now a prosperous people.”

We waited for him to go on.

“We have suffered much. After the war…there was a harsh treaty. Oh, we suffered. But no more. We shall be great again.”

“But you are,” said Dorabella, giving one of her most appealing smiles.

Both young men then regarded her with interest. “You have seen this?”

“Oh, yes,” said Dorabella.

“And you will go home and tell your people Germany is great again?”

Dorabella said: “Oh, yes.” Although I knew she had no intention of doing so and certainly no one would have been interested if she had.

“We are proud,” said Ludwig, “because it was here in Munich that our Führer made his great attempt to lead our nation.”

“What year was that?” asked Edward.

“1923,” answered Franz. “It was the Putsch in the beer cellar.”

“Beer cellar!” cried Dorabella. “Can we go to a beer cellar?”

Neither of the young men seemed to hear that. They were staring silently ahead, their faces flushed with zeal.

“It failed and he went to prison,” said Franz.

“But that time was not wasted,” added his friend. “For out of it came Mein Kampf.”

“And then when Hindenburg died he became Chancellor. And then Dictator…and everything was different,” said the other.

“Oh, good,” murmured Dorabella. “That must have been nice.” There was a touch of asperity in her voice. She was a little bored by these too earnest young men. However, there was a very friendly atmosphere at the table and the food was good.

We felt distinctly refreshed and spent a pleasant afternoon exploring the Peterskirche—one of the oldest churches I had ever seen. After that we sat outside a restaurant, drank coffee, and ate some delicious cakes. It was interesting to watch the people strolling by. Edward said we must not stay out too long. We had to think of the journey tomorrow, for we should have to rise early.

We went back to our hotel. Franz and Ludwig were no longer there. We dined and returned to our rooms where Dorabella and I talked of the day’s events until we dropped off to sleep.

We were greatly looking forward to arriving in Regenshaven.

As we stepped from the train, I felt I was in an enchanted land. We had traveled through mountainous country of pine-covered slopes with waterfalls and little rivulets which glittered in the sunshine. We had seen the occasional little village with tall brick buildings and cobbled streets, which reminded me of illustrations in Grimm’s Fairy Tales from my childhood.

Kurt was waiting to greet us which he did with such joy and made us all feel like honored guests.

“How glad I am that you have come!” he said. “Ach, but it is a long journey and so good of you to make it to see us.”

“We thought it was worth it,” replied Edward lightly. “Kurt. It is good to see you.”

“And the young ladies are here…Violetta…Dorabella.”

“We are here,” cried Dorabella. “You don’t think we should have let Edward come without us, surely?”

“They are all eager to meet you. My family…I mean,” said Kurt. “Come. We will waste no time. They are impatient. Is this the luggage?”

Kurt took our bags and we went out of the station and settled into his waiting car. Then we drove through the pine-scented air.

“It is beautiful!” I cried. “Everything I thought it would be.”

And so it was. We were soon in the forest.

“The schloss is five miles from the station,” Kurt told us.

We looked about us eagerly and soon came to a small town, with its church and old belltower, its cobbled streets, and the square in which were the post office and a few shops. The small houses had clearly stood there for hundreds of years. One almost expected the Pied Piper to appear.

The schloss was about a quarter of a mile out of the town, which I discovered was called Waldenburg. The road to it was slightly uphill. I gasped when I saw the schloss. In the afternoon light it was like another illustration from the fairytale books.

It was a castle, yes, but a miniature one. There was a circular turret at each end and it was built of pale gray stone. I thought of a princess at one of the turret windows letting down her long fair hair to enable her lover to climb up to her. I could hear Dorabella’s voice: “It’s silly. He would have pulled it all out, and think how it would hurt!” But I was more romantically minded than she was, and I thought it was an example of true love to suffer for the joy of receiving one’s lover in the turret.

I would have reminded her of this but there was no time, for standing at the door of this fascinating edifice was a group of people.

Kurt shouted in German: “We’re here,” and they all clapped their hands.

We got out of the car and were introduced to them. Edward they knew already, and greeted him with great pleasure. And Kurt presented them to us with that dignity with which I was beginning to become accustomed. There were his parents, his grandfather and grandmother, his brother Helmut and his sister Gretchen. Standing to one side were the servants—a man, two women, and a girl who, I guessed, would be much the same age as Dorabella and me.

When the first formal introductions had been made, the welcome was very warm.

We were shown to our rooms. Dorabella and I shared, which we were delighted to do. We stood at the window looking out on the forest where a faint mist was beginning to settle, giving the scene a mysterious aspect and, just for a moment, I felt a certain apprehension which made me shiver. That mist once again reminded me of the forest in the Grimm books, where evil was so often lurking.

It was gone in a moment, for Dorabella hugged me suddenly—a habit she had when excited.

“It is wonderful!” she cried. “I know it’s going to be fun. What did you think of Helmut?”

“I am afraid it is too soon for me to have made an assessment. He seemed very pleasant.”

Dorabella laughed at me. “You are such a pompous old darling, dear sister. I’m glad all that side of us went to you.”

She often said that she and I were one person, really, and the vices and virtues which fell to the lot of most people at birth had been divided between us.

However, on that occasion she did manage to disperse that mild feeling of uneasiness.

I remember our first meal in the schloss inn. I recall going down the narrow spiral staircase to the dining room where we dined with the family, apart from the guests who were staying at the inn; and we had our meal after they had had theirs.

It was a small dining room which looked out—as so many of the rooms did—on the forest. There were rugs on the wooden floor, and two stuffed heads of deer protruded from the walls on either side of the open fireplace.

We discovered that long ago—before the unification of Germany, when the country had consisted of a number of small states—the schloss had been the hunting lodge of some baron, and the animals’ heads must have been put there then. One looked somewhat ferocious, the other scornfully resentful. They seemed to intrude into the peaceful atmosphere of the room. There were pictures, too, of the Brandt family which I later learned had been painted before the disastrous years of 1914 to 1918.

It was a merry party. The language represented little problem. Dorabella and I had learned a smattering from our school lessons which was of some small help to us. Kurt and Edward were fairly good; and Kurt’s parents seemed to have acquired a little English, possibly through visitors to the schloss; and Helmut and Gretchen had some English, too. So the language problems which cropped up now and then only added to the merriment.

It was a very pleasant evening.

Dorabella and I discussed it when we were alone in our room.

“It’s going to be fun,” said Dorabella. “Helmut is rather disappointing, though.”

“You mean he has not responded to the allure of Miss Dorabella Denver?”

“He’s a bit stodgy,” she said. “I can’t bear these intense people. Like those men in the hotel. Helmut doesn’t laugh much.”

“Perhaps he doesn’t see anything to laugh about, or it may be that he doesn’t feel it necessary to let everyone know what he is feeling.”

“Tomorrow,” she went on, “we shall explore. It’s going to be interesting.”

“I’m sure it will be…different from anything we have done before.”

I went to the window and looked out. The mist had thickened. I could just see the outline of the nearest trees.

“It looks exciting like that,” I said.

Dorabella came to stand beside me.

I went on: “Weird almost. Do you think so?”

“It just looks like mist to me.”

I found it difficult to turn away, and suddenly I saw a figure emerge from the schloss.

Dorabella whispered: “It’s the maid.”

“Else,” I murmured. “Yes, that’s her name. I wonder where she’s going. It must be nearly eleven.”

Then we saw a man step out of the shadows. We could not see him clearly, but he was obviously not one of those whom we had seen in the schloss. He was tall and very fair. Else was caught up in his arms and for a few moments they clung together.

Dorabella was giggling beside me.

“He’s her lover,” she said.

We watched them as, hand in hand, they slipped into one of the outhouses, which in the days of the baron may have been stables.

We left the window. Dorabella got into her little bed and I got into mine.

We did not sleep well that night, which was to be expected; and when I did dream it was of a fairy-tale kind of blue mist which turned into shapes of strange people, and the branches of the trees became long arms that stretched out to catch me.

During the days which followed, we settled into the life of the schloss. I learned from Kurt’s mother that the inn was by no means full. They had at the moment only six people staying, and they considered that fairly good. Times had been bad, but they were in some respects getting better as the country became more prosperous.

“It had a long way to come after the war,” said Kurt. “Now there are more visitors because people come from abroad…from England, America, and other parts of the world. But we have the Beer Garden and when the weather is not good customers come inside. We have the big room with the bar…it is from this that we make our living.”

“We are grateful for this,” went on Kurt’s mother.

She was a woman of great energy, and I was impressed by her devotion to her family. In fact, what struck me immediately was this attitude among them all. It was almost as though there was an element of fear in their feeling toward each other. It puzzled me.

The grandfather was rather feeble and spent most of his time in his room reading the Scriptures. He would sit in his chair with a little black cap on his head and his lips would move as he said the words to himself.

The grandmother would be in her chair, knitting most of the time. Among other things she made jerseys for the whole family. She told me that winters in the forest could be harsh.

“We are so high,” she said. “Well above the sea…and the clouds come down and surround us.”

She would croon to herself and Kurt told us that she lived in the past and seemed to be there more often than in the present.

His parents were constantly working. The father was often in the forest. I had seen him felling trees, and logs were brought into the schloss from time to time on a long carriage-like contraption used for that purpose.

There was a great deal to do in the schloss, and I guessed they could not afford much help.

Helmut, that very serious young man, continued to be a disappointment to Dorabella. He showed no more interest in her than in Edward or me, though he was meticulously polite and considerate to us all, but equally so, and clearly he was unaware of Dorabella’s special charms—and that did not endear him to her.

Gretchen was a charming girl—dark-haired, dark-eyed like the rest of the family—and I noticed that Edward’s eyes were often on her. I mentioned this to Dorabella; she shrugged her shoulders; she was not really interested in the romances of others.

In a few days I felt we had been at the schloss for weeks. Kurt had driven us round so that we could see something of the countryside. Sometimes we descended to the lower slopes and walked among the spruce, silver fir, and beech; then we would make our way up to where the firs grew in abundance.

We walked a great deal which meant much climbing, but it was the best way of seeing the country. It was delightful to visit the small hamlets. They were different from those at home and most seemed to have that Grimm-like quality. I always felt that there was something a little frightening about them. I was reminded of children lost among the trees and finding a gingerbread house or giants lurking in the undergrowth.

I think these feelings were engendered by something I did not understand at the time. It was there in the schloss.

What was it? Beneath all the bonhomie, the laughter, the merriment of the Beer Garden…and often in the bar where people came in from the villages around, sitting at tables drinking, often singing songs with beautifully haunting tunes, usually extolling the Fatherland.

If I mentioned this to Edward and Dorabella I felt they would have laughed at me. They would say wasn’t I always fancying something? I told myself they were right. It was the forest atmosphere which moved me in some way.

Dorabella and I quite often went out alone. We had taken to walking into the town and we found it particularly enjoyable to sit outside one of the coffee shops, drink our coffee, and partake in one of the fancy pastries which were really delicious. The waiter now knew us as “The English Young Ladies,” and he would chat a little to us when he served us. We used our boarding-school German with him which he seemed to like. Then we would watch the people walking by; and after an hour or so of this pleasant occupation, we would stroll back to the schloss.

It was the beginning of our second week. It was a lovely day, slightly less warm than it had been, with the faintest touch of autumn in the air.

As we sat there, a young man strolled past. He was tall and fair, with a marked jaunty air, so different from the rather earnest people we met so often. He had a very pleasant face and, as he went past, he glanced at us. It was not exactly a stare, but he certainly did not look away immediately. I was aware of Dorabella’s interest.

He went on into the town.

Dorabella said: “He looked different somehow.”

“I think he is a visitor…I mean, not a local.”

“I thought for a moment he was going to stop.”

“Why on earth did you think that?”

“He might have thought we were someone he knew.”

“I am sure he thought nothing of the sort. In any case, he’s gone now.”

“A pity. He was quite good-looking.”

“Would you like another pastry?”

“No, I don’t think so. Violetta, do you realize we shall soon be going home?”

“We’ve another week.”

“By the way the time flies, we shall soon be there.”

“It has been fun, hasn’t it?”

“H’m,” she said. She was alert suddenly.

She was facing the street and I had my back to it. Her face creased into smiles.

“What is it?” I demanded.

“Don’t look round. He’s coming back.”

“Who?”

“That man.”

“You mean…?”

“The one who just went by.”

She appeared to become very interested in her coffee cup. And then I saw him, for he had seated himself at a table close by.

“Yes,” went on Dorabella, as though there had been no interruption. “It won’t be long now. I expect the parents will be thinking that two weeks away from their beloved daughters is long enough.”

As she talked it was clear to me that her attention was on that other table.

Then suddenly the man rose and came toward us.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I couldn’t help hearing you were speaking English. It’s such a pleasure to meet one’s fellow countrymen in foreign lands, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yes, I do,” said Dorabella.

“May I join you? One can’t shout across the tables. Are you on holiday?”

“Yes,” I said. “Are you?”

He nodded. “Walking,” he said.

“Alone?” asked Dorabella.

“I had a friend who was with me. He had to go back. I hesitated whether to go with him, but it was only for another week, so I thought I would stick it out.”

“Have you walked far?”

“Miles.”

“And you have just arrived in this place?” asked Dorabella.

“Three days ago. I thought I saw you before…having coffee here.”

The waiter had approached and the young man ordered coffee, suggesting that we have another with him. Dorabella agreed at once.

“This is a fascinating place,” I said. “And walking, you see the best of it.”

“That’s true,” he agreed. “Have you walked much?”

“A little.”

“Are you staying in this town?”

“No,” Dorabella told him. “In a little schloss about a quarter of a mile away…not exactly a hotel, but a sort of inn.” She waved her hand in the direction of the schloss.

“I know it. Charming surroundings. How long have you been here?”

“We are going at the end of the week. Then we shall have been here about fourteen days.”

The coffee had arrived and the waiter smiled benignly to see us chatting together.

“It is so good to be able to talk in English,” said the young man. “My German is somewhat inadequate.”

“And so is ours,” said Dorabella. “But we have someone with us who is quite good.”

“A friend?”

“Well, a friend of the family. He is like a brother…only not really.”

He waited for us to explain, but as neither of us went any further there was a brief silence. Then Dorabella said: “We are visiting a friend, really. He came to England and suggested we come here for a visit. That’s how it was.”

“I’m very glad you did. It’s comforting to meet someone English…although I’m not exactly English.”

“Oh?” we both said in surprise.

“Cornish,” he said with a grimace.

“But…”

“A little quibble. The Tamar divides us and we always maintain that we are a race apart from those people on the other side of it.”

“Like the Scottish and the Welsh,” I said.

“Celtic pride,” he replied. “We think we are as good as…no, better than…those Anglo-Saxons…as we call you foreigners.”

“Oh dear,” said Dorabella in mock dismay. “And I was thinking what fun it was to meet someone of our own race.”

He looked at her earnestly. “It is,” he said. “It has made this a most interesting day for me.”

“Tell us about Cornwall,” I said. “Do you live near the sea?”

“Sometimes it seems too near…almost in it, in fact.”

“That must be fascinating.”

“I love the old place. Where is your home?”

“Hampshire.”

“Some distance from Cornwall.”

“Are you looking forward to going home?” asked Dorabella.

“Not at this moment.”

“Shall you be walking tomorrow?”

“I let each day take care of itself.”

I could see that Dorabella was enjoying this encounter. Her eyes were shining; she looked very attractive and I noticed how his gaze kept straying to her. It did not surprise me. I had seen it so many times before.

She was telling him, in her animated fashion, about Caddington, and he responded with some details of his home in Cornwall.

He told us his name was Dermot Tregarland. “An old Cornish name,” he pointed out. “We seem to be either Tre, Pol, or Pen. It is like a label. ‘Where e’er you hear Tre, Pol, and Pen, you’ll always know ’tis Cornishmen.’ It’s an old saying I heard somewhere and it is true.”

And so the talk went on until I said—although I was aware of Dorabella’s displeasure—that it was time we returned to the schloss.

We said goodbye and started back.

Dorabella said angrily: “Why did you want to leave as abruptly as that?”

“Look at the time! They would be wondering where we were. Don’t forget we were about to leave when he came up.”

“What did it matter?” There was a pause and she added: “He didn’t say anything about seeing us again.”

“Why should he?”

“I thought he might.”

“Oh, Dorabella,” I said. “It was a chance encounter. ‘Ships that pass in the night.’ It was only because he heard that we were speaking English that he stopped.”

“Was that all, do you think?” She was smiling now…secretly.

The next day the weather had changed and there was a distinctly definite touch of autumn in the air. Kurt and Edward had planned an excursion to one of the mountain villages, and it had naturally been taken for granted that we would accompany them.

However, Dorabella decided that she must do some shopping in the town. I understood, of course. She wanted to go into Waldenburg and sit outside the coffee shop in the hope that the young man of yesterday would pass by again.

And, of course, I wanted to be with Dorabella. I must, because she could not very well go alone.

We watched Edward and Kurt go off, spent an idle morning, and after lunch went into the town.

We did a little shopping for souvenirs and in due course arrived at the coffee shop. The waiter gave us his welcoming smile and we sat down—Dorabella in a state of expectation, I amused and a little cynical, wondering what she thought would be the outcome of this chance encounter.

We talked desultorily while Dorabella was watchful. She had placed herself looking on the street, the way he had come before, and as time passed she was becoming more and more despondent.

A horse and trap went by, and then some riders—two young girls with an instructor; then a van drew up and a young man stepped out. He was delivering something to the coffee shop.

As I watched him carrying in a large box, I thought there was something familiar about him. He disappeared into the shop, and after a while came out carrying a sheaf of papers. The waiter was with him and they chatted for a while.

Then I recognized the young man.

I said: “Oh, look! Do you see who that is? It is Else’s young man.”

Dorabella’s thoughts were elsewhere. She looked at me impatiently.

“What?” she said.

“That young man who is delivering something. He’s Else’s young man. You remember. We saw him from our window. He’s her lover. We saw them embracing the other night.”

“Oh, yes…I remember.” Dorabella was not interested in that particular young man.

He was standing by the van now. He called out in German, which I could understand: “Tomorrow night, then. See you there.”

“They must be friends,” I said. “He and the waiter…they are meeting tomorrow night.”

“What of it?” said Dorabella petulantly.

“Well…nothing. Just that I was interested, that’s all.”

Dorabella continued to glance disconsolately along the street.

I said: “Well, we can’t sit here all the afternoon.”

She agreed reluctantly.

But I knew that she was bitterly disappointed and, as I often did, I understood exactly how she was feeling.

We walked slowly down the incline which led to the schloss. There was a faint chill in the air and a mistiness in the atmosphere.

“I don’t want to go in yet,” she said. “I’d like to walk awhile.”

“All right. Let’s do that, but not for long.”

“In the forest,” she said.

We left the road and walked through the trees. I wanted to comfort her, as I had always done when she was disappointed. I was reminded of the time when she had lost one of her teddy bear’s bootbutton eyes and another time when the face of her favorite doll had been smashed to pieces. I had been the only one who could console her on such occasions. I understood her better than any.

Now I wanted to bring her out of that despondency. It was absurd, I wanted to point out. How could seeing someone with whom she had exchanged only a few words be of such importance to her? It was ridiculous. But that was Dorabella. She felt intensely…for the moment. Her emotions did not really go very deep and might not be long in passing, but while they were there they took complete possession of her.

We never went deep into the forest. We had been warned about that. The road which led from the town to the schloss had been cut through it and on either side the tall pines rose to the sky. The trees grew less densely on the edges of the forest. Kurt had taken us deeper into it, but he had warned us always to keep close to the road so that if we could not see it we were aware of it.

So we continued to walk on the fringe.

We sat down on a log. I tried to talk of other things but Dorabella was absentminded. I knew this mood. Fortunately it would not last long. Her moods never did. She had been a little disappointed by the lack of admiring young men during this holiday. Helmut was too concerned with the running of the schloss to have given her the attention she looked for; and I gathered he was not good looking enough to appeal to her. The Cornishman Dermot Tregarland had been just right. He had appeared by magic right near the end of the holiday and that seemed to be the end of him. Poor Dorabella!

I said it was getting chilly and we should return to the schloss.

She agreed and we started to walk back the way we had come and then…suddenly, I began to be alarmed. We had not noticed how thick the mist had become. We should have remembered that it could come down quickly. We had been told often enough. Not that we could really say this was so sudden. It had been hanging about all day. And now…here it was and nothing looked the same.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get out of this quickly.”

But it was not easy. I had thought to see the road, but all I could discern were the trunks of nearby trees, their branches swathed in mist.

I took Dorabella’s arm.

“It’s what they warned us about,” I said. “How silly of us.”

She was silent.

I went on: “We can’t be far from the road. We must find it. I am sure this is the way.”

But was it? Wherever I looked, I could see very little. The mist was everywhere. I began to feel very alarmed. But I did not want Dorabella to see how much. The instinct to protect Dorabella was with me as strong as it used to be in our childhood.

She turned to me as she always did, and I was gratified to see that she still had that childlike confidence in me.

I felt very tender toward her.

“We’ll soon be out of this,” I said. “We shouldn’t have come into the forest, of course, after what they have told us.”

She nodded. I grasped her hand firmly and said: “Come on.”

We walked on. It might have been for ten minutes but it seemed like an hour. I was beginning to get very uneasy. The forest had taken on that Grimm-like quality. The trunks of the trees seemed to form themselves into grotesque faces which leered at me. The bracken caught at our ankles like tentacles trying to hold us back.

I glanced at Dorabella. She did not have these fancies.

I had a terrible fear that instead of going out of the forest we were getting deeper and deeper in. As the thought struck me I drew up sharply.

“What is it?” asked Dorabella.

I said: “I am wondering if we should wait here…until the mist lifts.”

“What! Here! That could be all night.”

She was right. But how could we know whether we were getting deeper and deeper into the forest? What idiots we had been to come in the first place! It was not as though we had not seen that there was mist in the air.

I felt exasperated—more so because I was becoming more and more alarmed.

And this had all come about because of that young man in the town. If I had not been so concerned about Dorabella’s disappointment I should have insisted that it was foolish to walk into the forest on such a day. Everything that had happened was because of that young man. We might have been safe with Kurt and Edward.

Then I thought of the consternation there would be at the schloss when we did not return. So what should we do? Stay where we were and wait? Or go on and perhaps deeper into the forest?

Despair settled on me—and then I thought I heard someone not so very far off.

I shouted: “Help! Is anyone there?”

We stood in silence, listening.

To our great relief there was a reply. And in English.

“Yes…where are you?”

I was aware first of Dorabella’s face. It was bright with excitement. She recognized the voice, as I had. It was that of Dermot Tregarland.

“We’re lost,” I shouted.

“I’ll find you. Go on calling.”

Both Dorabella and I called: “Here! Here!”

“I’m getting nearer…” came the response.

Now he seemed very close and we shouted at the tops of our voices: “Here…here.”

With what joy we saw him looming out of the mist.

“Oh,” cried Dorabella. “How wonderful! We were quite scared.”

He was grinning. “I was hoping to find you,” he said. “I saw you turn into the forest.”

“Where were you?”

“I came for coffee. I hoped you’d be there. The waiter told me you had just gone. Then I saw you down the road. I watched you go into the forest and I hurried down to catch you up. If I couldn’t, I decided I would have a beer in the schloss and await your return.”

Dorabella was overcome with delight and wonder. It had all turned out right after all.

Dermot Tregarland took charge.

“This devilish mist!” he said. “It is a shocker, don’t you agree? One doesn’t know which way to turn. We’d better get out of here fast. It could get worse as night comes on. I know the way I came and I’m fairly good at finding my way around. There was a gnarled old tree I passed…struck by lightning, I imagine…I guess when we find that we’ll be on the right road. There is a small one growing nearby. So…Excelsior!”

Dorabella giggled. The nightmare had turned into a thrilling adventure because our perfect, gentle knight had arrived to rescue us. This alone would make the holiday worthwhile and, to tell the truth, before, for Dorabella, it had been a trifle disappointing.

He was indeed all he had implied. He led us with the minimum of difficulty to the stricken tree. He shouted with triumph.

“We’re on the way.” Then he found the small tree to which he had referred. And there we were on the road.

Dorabella flung her arms round me and, looking over my shoulder at him, cried: “You’re wonderful.”

“I think we need something to warm us up,” he said. “What about a glass of wine—or are you tempted by their really excellent beer?”

Frau Brandt was at the door of the schloss looking anxiously along the road.

She said: “The mist had come up rather quickly, as it often does at this time of the year. I was beginning to think it was time you were back.”

Dorabella explained that we were lost in the forest and Mr. Tregarland had brought us out.

“Ach!” cried Frau Brandt, and broke into a stream of German which, we realized, expressed relief. She went on about the ease with which people could be lost in the forest and had to remain there until the mist cleared.

She hustled us into the schloss. It was not weather for loitering in the Beer Garden. What refreshments would we like?

We said we would like a glass of wine…a sort of aperitif. So wine was brought and we sat together—Dorabella in a state of extreme contentment. I thought to myself, I believe she is falling in love with this young man, or perhaps trying to convince herself that she is. And he? He was charming, and it was clearly Dorabella who had his attention. She was the sort of girl who changed in the society of men. If she were depressed, this could be completely dispersed by masculine appreciation. She sparkled; she was at her most enchanting best. I suppose there were occasions when I might have felt a little jealous, but I did not now. For one thing, I took her superior feminine charms for granted; and so far I had never felt any desire for the attention of those men who attracted her.

I liked this young man. He was certainly charming, but that was all. Dorabella was inclined to let her emotions flow too easily. I was always afraid that she would—as she had once or twice in the past—have to face some disappointment.

Dermot lifted his glass and said: “To our safe return from the dangers of the forest.”

Dorabella touched her glass with his and they smiled at each other.

“How lucky for us that you saw us,” said Dorabella.

“It was more due to design than luck,” he assured her. “I was so sorry to have missed you. I was so certain that I would find you sitting there sipping your coffee. I was so grateful to the waiter for telling me you had only just left. Then I dashed off and saw you turning into the forest. It occurred to me that it might be misty there. Indeed, it did seem to be getting worse every moment.”

“So you came to rescue us,” said Dorabella. “It was truly marvelous, the way you brought us out.”

They smiled at each other again.

“The English have to stick together when on alien soil…even if some of them are only Cornish.”

Dorabella laughed at everything he said, as though she found it the height of wit. I would tell her when we were alone that she must not be so blatantly adoring.

Then we started to talk about ourselves. We told him who Edward was and how our mother had brought him out of France at the beginning of the war.

He was very interested. “And Edward is the good big brother to you.”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “He is wonderful to us, always feels he has to look after us.”

“He does not forbid you to wander in the misty forest?”

“He will be furious with us for having done so,” said Dorabella. “But he has gone off for the day with his friend Kurt—the son of the Brandts. They have known each other for some little time. That is why we are here.”

He said he hoped to meet Edward.

He told us something about his house in Cornwall. It had been in the Tregarland family for hundreds of years. In fact it was called “Tregarland’s.” It was built of gray stone; it faced the sea and received the full blast of the southwest gales. But it had stood up to them for centuries and it seemed would continue doing so. It had towers at either end and its gardens sloped right down to a beach which belonged to the house but there was a “right of way” through it; otherwise people walking along the shore would have to climb the cliff and go round the house and descend again if they wished to continue along the beach.

“Not many people come that way. In the summer there might be a few visitors, but that is usually all.”

“Do you have any family?” I asked.

“My father is an invalid. My mother died when I was very young. That is really all the family. There is Gordon Lewyth—he is like a member of the family. He looks after the estate. He’s a wonderful manager. Then there is his mother who runs the house. She isn’t exactly a housekeeper. She’s a distant connection of the family, I believe…all rather vague. She came to us when my mother died and has run the house ever since. That must be about twenty-three years ago. It has worked out very well.”

“And there you are with your father your only family, really,” said Dorabella.

“Yes, but as I say, Gordon Lewyth and his mother are really like family.”

“It sounds interesting,” said Dorabella.

“And what do you do?” I asked.

“There is a Tregarland estate. Farms and so on. They are let out to tenant farmers and we have an interest in them. Then there is the home farm. I help in the management, although Gordon is more involved than I am. There’s a lot to do on an estate, you know.”

“It’s rather like Caddington,” I said. “We know something about the managing of estates, don’t we, Dorabella?”

“Oh, yes. Our father is always busy and our brother will take over one day, I suppose. That sort of thing goes on in families like ours.”

“That’s so. I think it would be a good idea if I stayed here for a meal tonight. Then I can grope my way back to my hotel through the mist later on.”

So we talked and eventually Edward and Kurt returned. When they heard about our adventure in the forest Edward looked very severe and reprimanded us for not being more careful. Hadn’t we been warned often enough about the mist in the forest?

It was a merry party when we had dinner that night. Dermot was invited to share the meal in the private dining room with the family and everyone seemed to treat him as a hero because he had brought us out of the forest.

Edward was particularly grateful. He told us more than once that he had promised our mother to look after us. How could he have known that we should have been so foolhardy as to get ourselves lost? It was not even that the mist had come up suddenly. Dorabella begged him not to go on and on. She herself was delighted that she had gone into the forest. Otherwise how could Dermot Tregarland have shown them how gallant and clever he was by rescuing us?

Hans Brandt told some stories about people who had been lost in the forest.

“There are so many legends about these parts. Some people are sure the trolls are still around and they come out of their hiding places under cover of the mist.”

We sat, warm and content, in the comfort of the schloss and the merry company.

We lingered over the table while Dermot told stories of his native Cornwall which could match those of Hans Brandt. We laughed a great deal at the simplicity of folk and the amazing stories which could be handed down from generation to generation.

We could hear the sounds from the bar lounge where people were still drinking, as was their custom. There was no one in the Beer Garden on this night on account of the mist.

It had been a wonderful evening—a pleasant finale to the holiday, for in a few days we should be returning home. I watched Dorabella. She was looking so happy and I felt a twinge of anxiety. She scarcely knew this young man. Then I reminded myself that this was not the first incident of this kind. There had been a friend of our grandfather Greenham…some Member of Parliament who had been staying at Marchlands briefly. She had been very taken with him. But that had been about two years ago. He had turned out to be a devoted husband and father of children. She had quickly recovered from that. Then there had been a man at school who had come for a term to teach music. He had been another. It was all right. This was just Dorabella’s enthusiasm of the moment. On those other occasions she had been a schoolgirl, of course. Now she was grown up.

If Dermot Tregarland was not married, if she saw him again…this might just turn out to be not like one of those incidents. He lived some way from us. Perhaps in a few weeks he would become just another of those passing encounters…he would just be a part of the holiday in the Böhmerwald.

However, we parted on very friendly terms that night, and I knew Dorabella had a somewhat restless night.

Edward had made arrangements to go on another jaunt with Kurt the next day and, as we had behaved so foolishly, he refused to leave us behind on this occasion.

A party should be made up which included Dorabella, myself, and Gretchen.

Gretchen was delighted to come with us. I fancied that she was attracted by Edward, as he was by her; but she did not show her feelings—in fact neither of them did—as blatantly as Dorabella showed hers.

Dorabella herself was inclined to be sulky; she would have preferred to go into Waldenburg, and drink coffee so that Dermot could have joined us, but Edward was adamant and so we went off with the party.

It was a pleasant day; the weather had changed again; the skies were blue and we were back in summer. Kurt knew the forest well; there were several roads cut through it and he wanted to show us some of the charming little villages.

I enjoyed it very much; the small hamlets were very attractive with their mellowed brick houses, their cobbled streets, their old churches, and their general air of orderliness.

The people were very friendly. We had lunch in an old inn, with the sign of a mermaid outside—Die Lorelei it was called, and we recalled the poem we had learned at school and Gretchen recited it for us. She had a sweet, tremulous voice, and Edward led the applause.

We were taken down to see the ancient wine cellars and were told that at one time the inn had been part of a monastery, and the cellars were those in which the monks had once made their wine.

It was all very pleasant, but Dorabella was impatient to return, because in the evening Dermot Tregarland would be joining us at the schloss for dinner.

I shall never forget that night and the disaster which was all the more horrific because it was so sudden. It was as though the faces of benign friends suddenly changed into those of monsters before one’s eyes, leaving us quite bewildered because we were so unprepared.

When we returned from our day’s sightseeing, Dorabella and I changed in our room, Dorabella putting on the best of the dresses she had brought with her. She was in high spirits. She was certain now that the end of the holiday would not be the end of her friendship with Dermot Tregarland.

She chattered while we dressed and said how much she would like to see that place of his. It sounded fun and it was not really so very far away. She was going to suggest to our mother that we ask Dermot to Caddington.

He had arrived before we went down. We were going to eat in the inn that night. The family would be busy and would not dine until much later. Kurt and Gretchen would join us.

It was a pleasant meal, with lots of merry chatter, and afterwards we went into the inn parlor, where there were more people than usual. But we managed to get a table to ourselves.

It must have been about nine o’clock when a party of young men came in. It occurred to me at once that I had seen one of them before. I remembered immediately. He was Else’s young man, the one whom I had seen delivering a parcel at the coffee shop.

He looked different. He was wearing some sort of uniform, as were his friends. On his right sleeve was an armlet. I wondered if he had come to see Else.

They sat at a table and Else served them with beer. They joked with her and the young man laid a proprietorial hand on her arm. The group laughed loudly. They said something to Else, who nodded in the direction of the dining room. The young man began to sing one of the songs I had often heard. It was something about the Fatherland. Quite a number joined in. Then Helmut came into the parlor accompanied by his father.

That was the signal.

Else’s young man, who was obviously the leader, stood up suddenly and shouted something about Jews.

Pandemonium began. Someone hurled a tankard at the wall. Others did the same. One threw his at Helmut. It very narrowly missed him.

Dermot put his arm round Dorabella and she hid her face against him. Edward took my arm and pulled me to my feet and at the same time seized Gretchen.

He said: “They are going to start a riot. We’d better get out of here.”

Gretchen whispered: “Helmut…”

Kurt had gone to his brother’s side. He was very pale. The two of them stood side by side facing Else’s young man. The rest of the people in the room remained in their seats with looks of amazed horror on their faces.

Else’s young man had leaped up to stand on one of the tables. He began haranguing the people. I heard the name of Führer mentioned several times. He was shouting and I wished I could understand what he was saying, but I did realize that he was inciting them to join with him in his fury, which was directed against the schloss and its inmates.

Dermot said quietly: “We’d better get out of this.”

At that moment one of the tables was overturned and the air was filled with the sound of breaking glass.

Helmut said to Edward: “Get the girls out of here. Take Gretchen. This is no quarrel of yours.”

I felt sickened by the look of hopeless despair I saw on Helmut’s face. I did not know then what this was all about except that the young man and his friends seemed to be intent on destroying the place.

It was all so sudden…so inexplicable. Edward was dragging me with Gretchen toward the door. Dermot held Dorabella. One of the young men was watching us but he made no attempt to stop us. I had the idea that they were aware that we were foreigners and he was glad to see us go. In the room beyond the inn parlor Frau Brandt was standing, her hands across her breast and a look of abject terror on her face. I thought I had never seen such fear before. She was shaking.

I put an arm around her.

“They’re here…” she murmured. “At last…they are here…”

“Who…are they?” I asked.

“They are intent on destroying us.”

“You know them?”

“We are not the first. But how did they guess? We have never…”

We could hear the noises from beyond. They were destroying the inn parlor.

Frau Brandt sat down and covered her face with her hands. Gretchen went to her and knelt beside her. “Mutter…” she whispered, trembling.

Frau Brandt stroked her daughter’s hair.

“It has come,” she said. “It is here. I had hoped…”

I felt sick with horror.

Dermot said: “There must be something we can do. Shouldn’t we get in touch with the police?”

Gretchen said: “It would be no use. These people…it is what they do now. We are not the first. We did not think they would bother with us. We are so small…we are far from the town. We always believed they would not bother with us…until now. We are Jewish. It is something which it is good to hide these days.”

“We should go out and give a hand,” said Edward. “Clear them off.”

“Yes,” agreed Dermot. “Come on.”

Gretchen clung to Edward. “No…no,” she said. “You must not interfere with them. They will break up the room and go away.”

“Kurt…Helmut…your father…they are there.”

Gretchen still clung to Edward’s arm.

Dermot said: “I’m going out there. You ladies stay here.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Edward.

I could not understand then what it meant. I just listened in horror. I could hear them singing one of the songs which I was beginning to know by heart.

Then suddenly there was quiet.

Edward was out there, I thought. In danger, perhaps. What I had seen of those young men had led me to believe they were intent on destruction.

Because Edward was there I had to know what was happening. I opened the door cautiously. It was a strange sight which met my eyes. The room was in chaos. There were upturned tables and broken glass everywhere. The young men were all standing very still at attention; they were singing, their hands raised as though in a salute.

The customers remained seated, nervously fingering their glasses; they were mute, dazed. Not one of them, I was aware, had attempted to stop the upheaval which had been started by Else’s young man and his half dozen friends. They had allowed these thugs to break up the place. The singing stopped. Else’s young man came forward to where Helmut was standing in the midst of the ravages of the room. He stood before him and then deliberately spat into his face and said: “Jew.”

When he turned away, Helmut’s hands were clenched. Kurt caught hold of him. I thought at first Helmut was going to strike the young man.

The young man was looking straight at me. He stared for a moment. Then he clicked his heels and bowed. He turned away, collected his followers and they filed out of the schloss. I heard the sound of the starting up of car engines and then they drove away.

All the customers were slinking away in relief and, I fancied, with an expression of guilt. We stood in the room then, assessing the damage. There was broken glass everywhere. Several tables had been overturned and some chairs were in pieces. But it was not the damage which was responsible for the oppressive gloom. It was what it indicated. There was so much I had to learn, but I knew this was not an isolated disaster. It was an evil portent.

I heard Frau Brandt whisper in agonized tones: “What are we going to do? What will become of us all?”

I think that was what was in all their minds.

It was late when Dermot went back to his hotel in the town. He said he would come back tomorrow early and help with the clearing up. He could not understand why the Brandts did not call in the police. It was a pure case of unprovoked vandalism.

They did not want to speak of it that night. They were too shocked to do so. Frau Brandt’s attitude told me more than anyone else’s. I sensed in it a certain resignation, an acceptance of something that was inevitable.

It was late when Dorabella and I retired to our bedroom. We were both subdued.

She said that Dermot had been marvelous. He had looked after her so carefully. But I did not want to talk of Dermot. My thoughts were with the Brandts.

We did not sleep much that night. I doubt anyone in the schloss did.

The few guests who were staying had breakfast in the public dining room as Edward, Dorabella, and I did.

Afterwards we went into the damaged room where Kurt and the rest of the family were attempting to restore some order. Edward rolled up his sleeves and worked energetically.

Dorabella and I did what we could. The main difficulty was the broken glass which seemed to have embedded itself in everything.

During the morning Dermot arrived to help. He was very angry. He said it was shameful. He had talked to the people at his hotel and they had said it was happening all over Germany. The Führer wanted a pure race in Germany and that did not include Jews.

It had never occurred to me that the Brandts were Jewish. There had never been any reason to mention it. Edward said he may have heard it and thought no more about it. Kurt was his friend and his race would make no difference to that.

That morning we learned what was happening in Germany.

We had worked for several hours and cleaned most of the debris; we had taken away the broken chairs, set up all the upturned tables, washed a great deal of the stains from the walls which had been made by the tankards of beer which had been thrown against them; and in the dim light the room did not look much different from what it had before the debacle had begun.

We were all tired and sat down together. Gloom hung over us as thick as the forest mist.

It was no use ignoring it, and I am sure we found a slight relief in talking of it.

Kurt said: “It had to happen sooner or later. I am only sorry that it was during your visit. I am ashamed that you should have seen it. It is a blight on our nation. But you must not go away and think: ‘This is the Germans.’ It fills many of us with sorrow. It is an ulcerous growth…a cancer. It fills us with shame and, yes, fear. From one day to the next we do not know what our fate will be.”

“It is monstrous,” cried Dermot. “How can people let it happen? These thugs—they are nothing more—come with their songs and slogans…and dare do that! And they get away with it. I think one of the most shameful aspects of the case is that it was allowed to happen and nothing was done about it.”

“It has been so for some time,” said Hans. “These people are members of the Hitler Youth of the Nazi Party. When Adolf Hitler became Chancellor in 1933 he put Baldur von Schirach in charge of the youth of the country. German boys of ten were registered for what they call Racial Purity and known as the Deutsche Jungvolk. They are investigated to make sure they have no ‘alien’ blood, and if not, they are eligible at the age of thirteen to join the Hitler Youth Movement, the Hitler Jugend. At the age of eighteen they graduate from this and become members of the Nazi Party.”

“Whose aim it is to go round the country breaking up people’s homes!” cried Dermot indignantly.

“They are what are called Aryans, it seems.”

“It’s monstrous,” said Edward. “This can’t go on.”

“It has been going on for some time,” said Kurt, “and it grows worse.”

“Do you mean to say,” cried Edward, “that you live in fear that this sort of thing may happen at any minute?”

“I have lived with that fear for some time now.”

“And the people stand by and allow it!”

“They can do nothing else. The Führer has done so much for the country. We were in a dreadful state. Our currency was worthless…our people in desperation. We are not a race to sit down quietly and accept such a fate. We do something about it. We were defeated in the war and for that we had to suffer poverty and humiliation. Then this man came. He did much good. It is unfortunate for us that he hates our race. I sometimes believe that he wants to exterminate us completely.”

“That’s impossible,” said Dermot. “And this can’t go on. It’s ridiculous. And all these people who were there did nothing to stop it!”

“They were wise. No one can stand against the Nazis. They are in control.”

“It seems incredible that people could be allowed to behave so.”

“It is difficult for you to understand. But this is Germany.”

“Do you mean,” said Edward, “that tonight they may come along and do the same thing again?”

“I do not think they will do that. We are not important enough. We are only small people. They will go somewhere else. They have warned us…that is all. They want us to go away. But we have lived here all our lives…our forefathers were here before us. That means nothing to them. They do not like our race.”

Every one of us wished we knew how to comfort them. But there was no comfort we could offer.

We were all subdued. I had no desire to go out again. The fairy-tale villages had lost their charm for me. They had a beautiful exterior behind which evil lurked. I just wanted to get away, to go home, where everything would be normal. I looked back over those enjoyable days before I had seen that spectacle of destruction, but I could not forget the expression in the eyes of Else’s lover. How could a young man like that behave as he had? He had no pity for the innocent people he had attacked. I could have understood if there had been a quarrel and he had lost his temper, but it had all been done in cold blood. It was a senseless, calculated attack on people because they were of a different race from his own.

I told Edward that the leader of the band was Else’s friend. I explained what I had seen.

“I wonder if she knew he was going to do what he did,” I said.

“Perhaps,” replied Edward. “It explains things. She must have discovered that the family was Jewish. There is the old man in his black cap reading the Scriptures. He might have betrayed the fact.”

Edward was thoughtful. He told me later that he had passed on the information to Kurt who had said that it was very likely. They lived among spies. If Else had betrayed them, there was nothing they could do about it. To dismiss her would mean great trouble. Of that they could be sure.

Edward could not bring himself to let the matter rest. He had enough German to speak to Else and he could not resist doing so.

He told me about the conversation afterwards. He had said to her: “Was that a friend of yours who created all that damage last night?”

“I could see from her expression that she was quite truculent,” he went on. “She said defiantly: ‘Yes. It was.’ I answered: ‘And what did you think of what happened here last night?’ She replied: ‘It was for Germany and the Führer. We want an Aryan Germany. It is the Führer’s orders. We don’t want Jews here.’ I reminded her: ‘But those are the people you work for.’ ‘I should be employed by Aryans,’ she answered. ‘Why do you work here, then?’ I asked. ‘It is a job and my friend lives in the town nearby,’ she answered.

“It was just hopeless,” went on Edward. “I could not get through to her. She graciously made it clear that she had nothing against me. I wasn’t German, which was why I could not understand what it meant to Germany to have a pure race.”

“Oh, Edward,” I said. “It is so horrible. What if Kurt…his parents…Helmut and Gretchen…?”

Edward looked worried. “I have been talking to Kurt. They should get out.”

“How can they?”

“I don’t know. But they should consider it.”

“We shall be going soon,” I said. “It will be worrying to leave them…knowing what we do…having seen what we have seen.”

Edward looked deeply concerned. I thought then that he was perhaps more involved with Gretchen than I had realized.

I was certain of this when he said: “Gretchen is only a little older than you and Dorabella. Imagine what it must be like for her.”

“And Kurt and Helmut. I think they are ashamed in a way. They would rather it had happened when we were not here.”

“I suppose that is natural. And when you think that sort of thing is going on all over the country, it is something to be ashamed of. Violetta, how can we go away and leave them here?”

“What else can we do?”

“Well, it was Gretchen I was thinking of in particular. We could take her back with us.”

“Take her back!”

“We could say it was a holiday or something. She could stay with you. I am sure your mother would understand when we explained to her. She always understands.”

“I see,” I said.

“She is only a girl. How could we leave her here? With that likely to happen at any moment…?”

“You are very fond of her,” I said.

He nodded.

I smiled. “Well, you know my mother. She always comes to the rescue of people in distress.”

“As I have good reason to know. You and Dorabella could ask her back to stay with us for a while. That would be the best way of doing it.”

“And then you come and stay with us while she is there,” I said. “Edward, I understand perfectly.”

“It will be for you to suggest it,” he said. “I could hardly do so. And frankly, Violetta, the idea of leaving her here…”

“I understand,” I said. “I’ll suggest it.”

“And I’ll speak to Kurt on the quiet. He will see that it is the best thing. I couldn’t leave her here after what I saw last night.”

I told Dorabella what I proposed to do. She was amused.

“Poor Edward,” she said. “He really is smitten.”

“She’s a beautiful girl.”

“Do you think he wants to marry her?”

“I should think it very likely. He is very much in love.”

“How gorgeous! One wouldn’t expect it of old Edward.”

“Most people do things sometimes which one would not expect them to.”

“Old wiseacre!” she muttered affectionately.

She was in a good mood. Last night had been horrifying but it had brought her closer to Dermot Tregarland. I guessed she was thinking of a double wedding. Herself and Dermot; Edward and Gretchen. I knew her so well I could often read her thoughts.

I lost no time in suggesting to Gretchen that she should come to stay with us. She opened her eyes wide in astonishment.

I said: “It would be good for you to get away for a while, and you’d be interested to see England.”

Her pleasure showed in her face; then I saw the apprehension and I knew that she was thinking that though she might escape unpleasantness, there would be the perpetual anxiety for her family.

I felt a great affection for her in that moment. I think she cared for Edward, and the idea of going with him back to his country away from the ominous shadow which had fallen on her life seemed wonderful to her. If only they could all go…

But that was not possible.

Poor Gretchen! She was undecided.

It would be her family who would make up her mind for her; and they did.

Kurt was overcome with gratitude; so were Helmut and the parents; and it was decided that when we left we would take her with us for a holiday.

It was our last day. We were to leave the following morning. Kurt would drive us to the station and in due course the long journey to the coast would begin. We seemed almost like different people from those who had arrived here. I felt I should never be the same again. Whenever I saw anything beautiful I should look for the canker lurking beneath.

I went to say goodbye to the grandparents of whom we had seen very little during our stay, as they kept mainly to their own rooms.

Grossvater was reading the Scriptures and smiled at me rather vaguely. I told him that I should be leaving soon and he smiled on me benignly and gave me his blessing.

Then I went to Grossmutter who was seated in her rocking chair, her knitting in her hand. She was less vague and gave me a warm smile.

“It is good of you to come,” she said. I was amazed that she could speak English; and during my stay here I had improved on my school German to some extent so that conversation was possible.

“Grossvater and I, we are the old ones. We stay here in our rooms…like two pieces of furniture which are no longer much use.”

I protested at this.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Two pieces of furniture without use but which must not be thrown away.” She laid a hand on my arm. “They tell me that Gretchen is going back with you.”

“Yes, we thought it a good idea.”

“What you saw down there…” She put her face closer to mine. “It told you much…?”

“It was a shock.”

She nodded. “You now know…”

“It was so unexpected…so pointless.”

She shook her head. “It has always been,” she said somberly. “I was told it would be different here…and it was so…for a long time. You see, I do not belong to this country. I am a Brandt only by marriage. When I was eight years old I came here from Russia.”

“So you are Russian by birth?”

She nodded. “There it was the same. They called it the pogrom. We never knew when it would happen. Then we would be up…leaving much behind…and off we went. So it is to me not new…though a long time ago.”

“This cruel persecution. It seems so senseless to me.”

“It is a hatred of our race.”

“But why?”

“Ask the Lord. Only He will know. But it has always been. My family thought that coming here would be different. But you see, it has followed us here. We come to Germany…we leave all behind. I was young. I do not remember clearly. It was a long journey. I remember we had a wheelbarrow. We brought what we could. We were so weary. We slept anywhere we could find a place. Some people were kind to us. I do not know how long it went on. When you are young you forget so much. There are gaps in the memory. One forgets what one does not want to remember.”

“Does it upset you to recall it?”

She shook her head. “It helps,” she said. “What happened then…what happens now. There is a pattern to life. That was the beginning…and now it seems I return to it at the end.”

“I am so sorry.”

“It is life. We settled in Germany. We think, this is the good country. It seemed so. Those who worked hard were rewarded. My father became a tailor. He was very good. He worked hard. We were poor for a long time…but then he has his own shop. Then he has two shops…and three. I had brothers. We all worked together. Then one day, when I was in the shop, a handsome man comes in. My father is to make a suit for him. We met and fell in love. It was the Grossvater.”

“And you were happy then?”

“Very happy. I came to the schloss. I have been here ever since. At first it was wonderful and then the war comes. Then not so good. Disaster and defeat. We were not rich any more. But we kept on at the schloss and things grew better. We are becoming prosperous again…and then…”

“This started,” I said. “But to you it was not entirely unexpected.”

She shook her head. “I was waiting for it. It has happened to others. My son thought we were too remote…not important enough. We have never made much show that we are Jewish. Someone must have told.”

I knew who that was. Else had informed her lover.

I did not mention this as the girl was still with them and I guessed it would disturb Grossmutter.

“I want you to know how happy I am that you are taking Gretchen with you. She is a dear girl…a good girl. They are pleased…my son and his wife…that the good Edward feels love for her. He will take care of her.”

“I wish we could take you all.”

She laughed. “You are a good girl. I knew that when I first saw you. Your sister…your twin, eh?…she is very attractive…but light-hearted. You are a good, kind girl. It is a great weight from our minds that Gretchen goes with you.”

“I am so glad that she is coming.”

“And the young man…he is a good young man. Earnest…reliable…I hope much that all will go as we hope. It is the old pattern. It is with us through the ages. It is our heritage…and who are we to question it? My dear child, I shall think of you and be so grateful that you came to us. You will see what is happening here and you can tell your people at home.”

I bent and kissed her wrinkled cheek and she put out a hand and touched mine.

“May the blessing of the Lord God go with you,” she said.

When I came down, Frau Brandt said to me: “Grossmutter has been talking to you?”

“Yes,” I said. “It was very moving.”

“Her childhood in Russia?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Poor Grossmutter. She is sad about all this. She thought she had done with that when she left her homeland all those years ago. Now here it is again. We have been through some hard years and now that we seem to be coming to some prosperity again…this comes. Well, I want you to know how grateful we are to you for taking Gretchen back with you.”

“She is worried about leaving you.”

“Yes, poor Gretchen. But she wants to go…if she stayed she could not be happy to say goodbye to Edward.”

“I know.”

Her eyes shone with hope. “And now we are happy for her…and so grateful to you all. I worry about her more than Kurt and Helmut. The boys can take better care of themselves. We shall be thinking of you.”

“And we shall be thinking of you.”

“Yes, I know. This has not been just a holiday…a brief stay with friends, has it? What happened the other night has been significant. I do not want Gretchen to grieve for us. Our people have been persecuted throughout the ages. It has made us strong. We have suffered in the past and we shall in the future. But we shall survive. We always have.”

She took me into her arms and we embraced.

She was right. What had happened—deeply shocking as it was—had brought us all together.

Soon after that we said our final farewells and left.

We crossed the Channel that night. The sea was calm and we sat on deck, huddled in rugs, for the night air was chilly.

The stars were brilliant against a dark blue velvet sky. There were not many people on deck. The majority of the passengers had decided to stay below. Not far from me sat Gretchen and Edward, their chairs close. I saw that they were holding hands. And then there was Dorabella and Dermot Tregarland. To her delight, Dermot had traveled with us.

So much had happened during that brief holiday. Love was much in evidence. I thought the course of four people’s lives had been changed—five if I considered my own, for what touched Dorabella must be of importance to me, too. Romance and love were charming, and on this occasion they had blossomed among much which was ugly.

I felt apart. Looking up at the stars, I was aware of the enormity of the universe. I felt alone and rather sad, shut out in a way. Edward and Gretchen…Dorabella and Dermot…

I wondered if this was significant and whether love was destined to pass me by.