not tell me what it was that he wanted, but sometimes the old ones can read what is not written. Ah, I see the cable car is on its way up. I will leave you now as I must return. I cannot thank you enough for your so kind assistance. I will not forget it.” They watched the old man walk away with firm steps. He bore little resemblance to the weary, bent figure they had met earlier on their way up.
“Come, Sonia. It is time we ordered our dinner. Shall we sit on the terrace, or would you prefer to be inside?”
Sonia looked down at her packet that she was still carrying. “Terrace, please. It’s so nice to feel the cool air against my face, and I don’t want to miss the sunset ... not any of it. Did you ever see anything so lovely?”
The mountains stretched away to the skyline on all sides of them, mountains that seemed to have been carved out of gold, mountains whose lower slopes were half hidden by streamers of clouds rose-tinted by the last rays of the sun. Sonia felt she would never tire of gazing at them. All through dinner her eyes kept stealing back to the spectacle whose colors changed from moment to moment, each change bringing fresh delight.
Stefan touched her arm. “Sonia, have you forgotten? We came to learn German phrases...”
Sonia brought her attention back reluctantly. She did want to learn the German she would require, but the necessity recalled the way Michael had behaved. What right did he have to enforce his rules upon her? She had to admit it was the most demanding right in the world, the right of their patients. Their lives could depend upon her knowing what was wanted. It was the way he had done it that rankled. He could have suggested it quietly, not laid down ultimatums so peremptorily.
She sighed. “I know, Stefan, but it’s almost too lovely an evening to spoil with lessons.” She took out her dictionary and her notebook. “How do you tell the children it won’t hurt?”
Stefan laughed. “I suppose that is very important. If it is a girl you say: meine Kleine, das tut nicht Web ... if it’s a boy you say: mein Kleiner, das tut nicht Web. Next question!”
“What do you call the nurses? Greta says it so quickly that I can’t be sure.”
“That is simple. You say Schwester.”
Sonia’s tongue stumbled a little over the word. “Schwester ... that sounds something like sister. How funny! What do you call the trained nurses, and those in charge of the wards, then?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “You call them all the sam e —Schwester... nuns, registered nurses, and the student nurses. It is much easier. In England I was always in trouble for that. The younger nurses were flattered, but the ward sisters if they overheard were most displeased.” He glanced at his watch. “I will order the coffee. I think perhaps we should drink it indoors. I fear that you may be cold.”
There were still several tables filled with diners whose faces were flushed either from the sun, or from the wine they were drinking. One group were singing, and their clear voices singing one of the Austrian folk songs added enchantment to the scene.
Stefan pulled out a chair for Sonia. “Some Saturday you must come again. They have a Tirolean evening and there is much singing and dancing. Everyone is very happy.”
At last they had finished their coffee, and Sonia could think of no more phrases that she should learn before morning.
“What time does the last cable car go down?” she asked.
He looked at the timetable on the wall behind him. “Quite soon. We have perhaps 15 minutes. Would you care to see the valley from the lookout? The moon shines now, and it is not far that we must go.”
Sonia stood up. She was aware of regret that tonight was almost over. She felt so safe with Stefan. How ridiculous Michael’s warning had been, and how English! Just because a man was a foreigner it didn’t follow that he was a romantic fly-by-night and completely unreliable. Stefan wasn’t like that. She
“Come, Sonia. It is time we ordered our dinner. Shall we sit on the terrace, or would you prefer to be inside?”
Sonia looked down at her packet that she was still carrying. “Terrace, please. It’s so nice to feel the cool air against my face, and I don’t want to miss the sunset ... not any of it. Did you ever see anything so lovely?”
The mountains stretched away to the skyline on all sides of them, mountains that seemed to have been carved out of gold, mountains whose lower slopes were half hidden by streamers of clouds rose-tinted by the last rays of the sun. Sonia felt she would never tire of gazing at them. All through dinner her eyes kept stealing back to the spectacle whose colors changed from moment to moment, each change bringing fresh delight.
Stefan touched her arm. “Sonia, have you forgotten? We came to learn German phrases...”
Sonia brought her attention back reluctantly. She did want to learn the German she would require, but the necessity recalled the way Michael had behaved. What right did he have to enforce his rules upon her? She had to admit it was the most demanding right in the world, the right of their patients. Their lives could depend upon her knowing what was wanted. It was the way he had done it that rankled. He could have suggested it quietly, not laid down ultimatums so peremptorily.
She sighed. “I know, Stefan, but it’s almost too lovely an evening to spoil with lessons.” She took out her dictionary and her notebook. “How do you tell the children it won’t hurt?”
Stefan laughed. “I suppose that is very important. If it is a girl you say: meine Kleine, das tut nicht Web ... if it’s a boy you say: mein Kleiner, das tut nicht Web. Next question!”
“What do you call the nurses? Greta says it so quickly that I can’t be sure.”
“That is simple. You say Schwester.”
Sonia’s tongue stumbled a little over the word. “Schwester ... that sounds something like sister. How funny! What do you call the trained nurses, and those in charge of the wards, then?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “You call them all the sam e —Schwester... nuns, registered nurses, and the student nurses. It is much easier. In England I was always in trouble for that. The younger nurses were flattered, but the ward sisters if they overheard were most displeased.” He glanced at his watch. “I will order the coffee. I think perhaps we should drink it indoors. I fear that you may be cold.”
There were still several tables filled with diners whose faces were flushed either from the sun, or from the wine they were drinking. One group were singing, and their clear voices singing one of the Austrian folk songs added enchantment to the scene.
Stefan pulled out a chair for Sonia. “Some Saturday you must come again. They have a Tirolean evening and there is much singing and dancing. Everyone is very happy.”
At last they had finished their coffee, and Sonia could think of no more phrases that she should learn before morning.
“What time does the last cable car go down?” she asked.
He looked at the timetable on the wall behind him. “Quite soon. We have perhaps 15 minutes. Would you care to see the valley from the lookout? The moon shines now, and it is not far that we must go.”
Sonia stood up. She was aware of regret that tonight was almost over. She felt so safe with Stefan. How ridiculous Michael’s warning had been, and how English! Just because a man was a foreigner it didn’t follow that he was a romantic fly-by-night and completely unreliable. Stefan wasn’t like that. She
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