After the prayers, there was supper. Again, two by two, according to class, they had marched together to have supper. The dining-room was huge, square, high, bright, empty. With the exception of the four long tables, at the end of which the "ladies" were enthroned, a hundred and fifty Seminary children sat at other endlessly long sides. There was beer to drink with the supper. Manuela's neighbour at the table, Ilse von Westhagen, noticing that Manuela was not eating much, said cheetfully, "Take something, you'll surely get hungry. Even if you don't like it at first, you'll eat it later because you don't have anything else. It's always like that."
How can one put bread in the pocket without paper, thought Manuela. It makes crumbs, and then it's full of lint. But she was soon to learn to put all sorts of things into these pockets: sugar and leftover meat, rolls with and without butter—and really, if one didn't like it, somebody else was always grateful.
Another shrill bell—prayer at the table. They thanked God for dinner. And at the same time, the heavy pocket weighed one down, one felt like it had been stolen.
And a while the bell again. This time, it was called "Go to bed." In the big corridor, all the "ladies" were lined up side by side and shook hands with all one hundred and fifty children. To the Frenchwoman, one said "Bonne nuit, Mademoiselle," to the Englishwoman "Good night," and to the others "Gute Nacht." They had reached the locker room now.
"Manuela, man, come here quickly; I have to show you something!" Ilse is already pulling Lela's arm. "Come on, you'll laugh yourself to death!"
Lela allows herself to be drawn to Ilse's locker, which is diagonally opposite hers. Ilse opens both doors wide and watches eagerly the effect on Lela's face. At first, Lela is stunned. What opens up in front of her is too unexpected. Both doors of the outwardly simple white locker are papered with burning red crepe paper. It is teeming with pictures, Japanese fans, postcards of all kinds, Christmas tree decorations, artificial flowers.
"It's very beautiful," Manuela managed to say.
Ilse is satisfied. Lela is exhausted.
"There, and now watch this; you'll fall over now!"
Carefully, Ilse picks up a pile of underwear, and Lela's book "The Belly of Paris" lies there. Ilse beams.
"So, now say everything that is forbidden—one thing after another one. Yes?"
Smiling sheepishly, Lela complies with this request. "Chocolate."
Ilse unwraps stockings from which silver-papered package with contents peeps out.
"Money."
Ilse opens a box with a double bottom, in which harmless letters lie on top. There is a metallic rattle underneath.
"Jewellery," Lela says, who is not quite well, but she doesn't want to spoil Ilse's pleasure.
And Ilse loosens a thumbtack and lowers the red paper of the cupboard interior down a little. There are hanging: a golden chain, a bracelet, a slender golden ring.
"But Ilse!" Now Manuela is getting scared. "What are you going to do when it's locker rounds and yours is searched? Fräulein von Kesten . . ."
"Can't find anything!" Ilse says happily that Lela is so horrified. "When I have a locker rounds, I put everything that's forbidden in Ilse von Treitschke's locker; because she belongs in the other dormitory, and when she's spied on, then I take her stuff to mine. Fine, huh?"
"Splendid," Lela says and means it. Ilse feels comfortable in the role of enlightener.
"You know, if you ever want to do something that's against rules, you tell me. You can trust me with everything. Nothing happens. For example, if you have too many bad marks, what's the result? You don't get a permission to go out. But one can make amends for the bad marks with praise. You get a good mark, for example, when you darn a stocking very well. But of course, there aren't as many ripped stockings as there are bad marks; because everybody wants the stockings. Well, I always help myself and cut off a heel of one; that leaves a massive hole and a colossal number of good marks . . ."
"Thank you very much," says Lela, laughing.
"Don't mention it. I know a lot of things still—about letters and so on—just don't let yourself be impressed by what the Headmistress said this evening. Anyway, you know, when she really yells at me, and I get really scared of her, then I have a simple remedy. Then I just imagine what she looks like when she's naked."
Lela snorts with laughter and with her Lilly von Kattner and Ilse von Treitschke, who have just joined. The giggling and laughing also attracts others,
"Children, Ilse has made a joke . . ."
It is repeated, and new bursts of laughter shake the locker room.
