aware by now that behind friendly overtures often lurked cruel tricks. When I reached the door, Amalia tugged me through and shut it behind us. She was wearing a white dressing gown and gazed crossly at my face.
“You’re disgusting,” she said.
I thought, Why do people seek me out only to insult me?
But then it occurred to me that the bottom half of my face was, indeed, tingling with lamb juice and chicken fat. I cleaned it with my choir robe. Amalia groaned and grabbed my wrist. She pulled me down the hall. In a washroom she wiped my face and hands with a soft towel and threw it on the floor.
“Quickly,” she said, pulling my sleeve. “I’m supposed to be in bed.”
The clangs and drips and chatter of Haus Duft rose and fell as she led me down halls I could never have navigated on my own. We walked at a near run, as she swayed from side to side with her limp. She looked back at me.
“Lots of people fall off roofs,” she said. “Matthias von Grubber fell off the same roof as I, but he landed in a pile of manure. I landed on a plough. Karoline says God did it to slow me down, but it does not slow me down, and anyway there is no God.”
This last comment made me recoil in shock, but she just tugged me harder. When I still said nothing, she shook her head. “Why don’t you talk?”
Because I don’t know what to say , I would have said, if I had had the courage.
She just shrugged and continued speaking. “That’s fine with me. I hate listening to people. Marie won’t shut up. I tried to plug my ears with wax, but she just shouted to be heard. You, of course, you can’t keep quiet, but you don’t have to talk.”
No one had ever spoken so many words to me, apart from Nicolai and Ulrich. It all seemed quite suspicious. I would never find my way back if she abandoned me or, worse, led me to a pack of her spiteful friends. We had not passed a window for a while, and the sounds from the walls grew fainter and fainter. I judged that we had entered an uninhabited wing of Haus Duft.
Finally, she slowed. At the end of a long passage there was a table and, behind it, a set of closed double doors. An old man sat at the table with eyes half closed. A candle, quill, paper, and a silver watch were laid neatly on the table before him.
“Fräulein Duft,” he recited as we approached. He wrote something on his paper. I peeked and saw that he had scrawled her name.
“If you don’t tell my father we came, Peter,” she said, “I will bring you a cigar.”
He continued writing.
“Two cigars.”
He shook his head. “Accurate data.”
I looked at the sheet in front of him. A neat table divided it in two:
E VENT
T IME
Cough (hacking)
20:02 (Duration: 45 seconds)
Cough (clearing)
20:08 (Duration: 2 seconds)
Nurse Blatt enters
20:14
Window opened (Nurse Blatt)
20:15
Window closed (Nurse Blatt)
20:18
Bladder emptied on demand
Color: Xanthic; Volume: 1/6 Mass
20:20
Cough (hacking)
20:22 (Duration: 31 seconds)
Nurse Blatt leaves
20:25
Visitor (Fräulein Duft)
20:32
As I read this list, a hacking cough came from behind the double doors. Peter looked at his watch. Amalia groaned and grabbed the doorknob.
“Do not interrupt!” he ordered and tilted his ear. When the coughing stopped, he examined his watch. He wrote: “Cough (hacking): 20:34 (Duration: 24 seconds).”
“We’re going in,” Amalia said. She grabbed two strips of black silk from a pile on the table.
Suddenly the lethargic Peter was gone. Now a gallant knight seemed to have taken his place as he jumped up and clutched my arm. “No!” he said in shock. “Not him!”
“I am admitting him,” Amalia said.
Peter looked at her in amazement. He pulled me close and so I smelled his breath, which stank of sour wine. “She cannot admit,” he whispered.
Amalia stomped her good foot. “We are going in,” she repeated.
The old man pulled me closer. I tried to squirm away, but his grip was too strong. “Do not go in,” he
“You’re disgusting,” she said.
I thought, Why do people seek me out only to insult me?
But then it occurred to me that the bottom half of my face was, indeed, tingling with lamb juice and chicken fat. I cleaned it with my choir robe. Amalia groaned and grabbed my wrist. She pulled me down the hall. In a washroom she wiped my face and hands with a soft towel and threw it on the floor.
“Quickly,” she said, pulling my sleeve. “I’m supposed to be in bed.”
The clangs and drips and chatter of Haus Duft rose and fell as she led me down halls I could never have navigated on my own. We walked at a near run, as she swayed from side to side with her limp. She looked back at me.
“Lots of people fall off roofs,” she said. “Matthias von Grubber fell off the same roof as I, but he landed in a pile of manure. I landed on a plough. Karoline says God did it to slow me down, but it does not slow me down, and anyway there is no God.”
This last comment made me recoil in shock, but she just tugged me harder. When I still said nothing, she shook her head. “Why don’t you talk?”
Because I don’t know what to say , I would have said, if I had had the courage.
She just shrugged and continued speaking. “That’s fine with me. I hate listening to people. Marie won’t shut up. I tried to plug my ears with wax, but she just shouted to be heard. You, of course, you can’t keep quiet, but you don’t have to talk.”
No one had ever spoken so many words to me, apart from Nicolai and Ulrich. It all seemed quite suspicious. I would never find my way back if she abandoned me or, worse, led me to a pack of her spiteful friends. We had not passed a window for a while, and the sounds from the walls grew fainter and fainter. I judged that we had entered an uninhabited wing of Haus Duft.
Finally, she slowed. At the end of a long passage there was a table and, behind it, a set of closed double doors. An old man sat at the table with eyes half closed. A candle, quill, paper, and a silver watch were laid neatly on the table before him.
“Fräulein Duft,” he recited as we approached. He wrote something on his paper. I peeked and saw that he had scrawled her name.
“If you don’t tell my father we came, Peter,” she said, “I will bring you a cigar.”
He continued writing.
“Two cigars.”
He shook his head. “Accurate data.”
I looked at the sheet in front of him. A neat table divided it in two:
E VENT
T IME
Cough (hacking)
20:02 (Duration: 45 seconds)
Cough (clearing)
20:08 (Duration: 2 seconds)
Nurse Blatt enters
20:14
Window opened (Nurse Blatt)
20:15
Window closed (Nurse Blatt)
20:18
Bladder emptied on demand
Color: Xanthic; Volume: 1/6 Mass
20:20
Cough (hacking)
20:22 (Duration: 31 seconds)
Nurse Blatt leaves
20:25
Visitor (Fräulein Duft)
20:32
As I read this list, a hacking cough came from behind the double doors. Peter looked at his watch. Amalia groaned and grabbed the doorknob.
“Do not interrupt!” he ordered and tilted his ear. When the coughing stopped, he examined his watch. He wrote: “Cough (hacking): 20:34 (Duration: 24 seconds).”
“We’re going in,” Amalia said. She grabbed two strips of black silk from a pile on the table.
Suddenly the lethargic Peter was gone. Now a gallant knight seemed to have taken his place as he jumped up and clutched my arm. “No!” he said in shock. “Not him!”
“I am admitting him,” Amalia said.
Peter looked at her in amazement. He pulled me close and so I smelled his breath, which stank of sour wine. “She cannot admit,” he whispered.
Amalia stomped her good foot. “We are going in,” she repeated.
The old man pulled me closer. I tried to squirm away, but his grip was too strong. “Do not go in,” he
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