Gossamer Cord

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.