The next day, a bouquet of Mayflowers and a little card were delivered to Lela,
"I have to practise my violin for the Christmas bazaar on Saturday. Therefore I cannot go skating. Best regards, Fritz Lennartz."
Lela's small, brown hands gently opened the tissue paper. The flowers smelt wonderful. In the kitchen, she filled a vase with water. The cook stood next to it, smiling cheekily.
"From the admirer?"
Lela did not answer.
"Why not?" the cook said. Marie was a liberal. Although she liked to warn other people about love. She herself hadn't had a good experience. She liked to talk about it, and Lela had often listened to her. Hers was a sergeant. But not a good one. Marie's room was full of strange knick-knacks. Made of a grey-brown mass were a photo frame, an inkwell, even a naked girl—who looked a bit like a gingerbread figure— standing next to a palm tree made of the same mysterious mass. The mass was army bread. Marie's Karl was an artist and apparently spent a lot of time in the cell; for only there could he have leisure for his passion to knead such beautiful things out of army bread. Bread and water were the only things one had there, and time. Karl combined the three existing things and made art out of them.
Marie was embarrassed and proud of the achievements. She was a good person, loved Lela, and Lela spent a lot of time in the warm kitchen and learnt some useful things.
"Don't show the flowers to the gracious Fräulein, Fräulein Lela!" Marie admonished benevolently. "She'll pull another long face about them; she doesn't need to know everything."
Lela carried her flowers up the stairs carefully, so as not to spill any water. She had just been rejoicing, and now sudden uneasy feeling overcame her. Helling almost never came into her room—so she would hardly get to see them, her lilies of the valley, but . . . She was called to dinner, and glad not to have to think any further, she ran downstairs.
Bertiannounced that there would be a thaw and keenly observed the effect of his words on Lela. Lela felt a sharp pain in breast area and bent over her folded hands on the back of the chair. So they stood before the dining table and Berti said grace, "Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest and share with us what Thou hast blessed." Everyone joined in the Amen. Only then did they sit down to eat.