While the World Is Still Asleep (The Century Trilogy Book 1) by Petra Durst-Benning Page A

afternoon with you.” Her eyes flashed adventurously, and she clapped her hands. “So, why are you here?”
    “This way. We have to go to the shed at the far end of the grounds,” said Isabelle, striding across the white-gravel yard without the slightest consideration for her yellow shoes. She seemed to find nothing strange in Josephine’s request.
    “But . . . what if the young man wants to collect you and you’re not there? You’ll get in trouble,” said Clara warily.
    Josephine gave her a dark look. The last thing she wanted was for Isabelle to change her mind.
    But Isabelle just laughed. “I’ll tell my parents the truth, plain and simple. Namely that two old friends paid me a visit and I was so caught up in our lively conversation that I lost track of the time. So, here we are. This is where my father keeps his latest toy.” She turned the handle on the shed door, and it swung open with a high-pitched shriek. In the center of the room, lit by sunlight coming through the windows, stood her father’s bicycle, shimmering silver and smelling of rubber and lubricating oil.
    Her eyes wide and shining, Josephine stepped toward it. She ran her hands reverently over the handlebars, the tubes that connected the two wheels, and the saddle, as if she wanted to absorb through her fingers its every curve and angle and memorize them forever.
    “It’s beautiful. Much sleeker and lighter than Lilo’s bicycle.” Josephine crouched and inspected the vehicle. “On Lilo’s velocipede, the front wheel is bigger than the back wheel. And it didn’t have a chain like this; it had pedals up front. How does this bicycle work, I wonder . . . ?”
    “And just who is this Lilo? Does she also live on our street? I can’t remember her at all,” said Isabelle. “But I know someone else who’s interested in bicycles. One of my schoolmates, Irene, rides one. Her last little outing wasn’t very well received, to be sure—” Isabelle broke off as a heavy shadow darkened the doorway.
    “Can someone please explain to me what is going on here?”
    “Father . . .”
    “Isabelle! Haven’t I told you that my bicycle is off-limits? What are you doing here? Graf von Kyrill is waiting for you in front of the house with his four-in-hand carriage,” he snapped.
    But before Isabelle—who had turned chalk white—could reply, Josephine said, “Pardon me, but it is not Isabelle’s fault. I had begged her to show me your bicycle for so long that in the end she simply had no choice. It is beautiful . . . Thank you for allowing me to look at it.” She reached out her hand to Moritz Herrenhus and was amazed to see him actually accept her gesture. He eyed her soberly.
    “I know you! You’re Schmied-the-Smith’s daughter, aren’t you?”
    Josephine nodded without taking her eyes off his.
    “That’s a good one! The smith’s daughter is interested in my bicycle!” he said and laughed, instantly mollified. It seemed that Graf von Kyrill was forgotten, at least for the moment.
    Josephine and Clara exchanged a look.
    “What do you mean?” asked Isabelle.
    Her father made a sweeping gesture with his hand, taking in the entire storage shed around them.
    “Do you see any hay or straw in here? Or stable boys? Any expensive tack or dubbin or horse balsam? No. And why don’t you see these things? Because they aren’t needed for a bicycle. A bicycle is considerably easier to look after than a horse, and for that reason also cheaper in the long run. I’m telling you, in a few years we won’t be seeing any horses on the streets anymore, and in their place will be bicycles. Getting around on horseback will be a thing of the past. Bicycles are the future. Your father will soon be able to close his smithy . . .”
    “The bicycle replacing the horse? Never,” Josephine blurted. “They’re much too expensive. Only rich people like you can afford them.”
    “For now. But that will change, take my word for it. Once the demand