Two and two, the children walk through the park. They wear the same old-fashioned hats and the same old-fashioned coats. Little is said. Mademoiselle Oeuillet walk behind them. She has good hearing and hears immediately when one speaks German. Today is French day and anyone who falls into German gets a bad mark.
Lilly and Lela walk silently next to each other. Suddenly, Lilly nudges Manuela,
"There, look!"
And she points to a squirrel rattling up a tree. Manuela stops. She loves animals so much and—delighted and self-forgetful—she takes a step to the side.
"Manuela!" comes a shout from behind. The children following behind are already treading on Manuela's heels, and the whole column is in disarray.
"It is not allowed to stand still. Continue, be in linep!" comes the command in French from the back. This is how they go on. Always keeping the same distance, always seeing the same thing in front of oneself—right in front of one's face—a pinned up braid, a hat, a coat, a dark skirt, a pair of thick black stockings, and a pair of high black boots. Only the leading pair has a free road lying ahead of them. And so there is always a great contest for this permission to lead.
Many of them like to "lead" into the town, past shops. There one can see a bit of shop windows; even if one is not allowed to enter a shop. They like to peer into a confectionery shop window, even if they're not allowed to buy anything. One really enjoys looking into milliner shops when one has an old-fashioned hat on one's head. Also, it may be possible to slip a letter secretly into a post box without the supervisor noticing.
So even an outwardly modest little town has its charms if—like these children—one is hungry for variety. It can also happen that one meets the hereditary prince—slim and elegant in a tight uniform—on a high gig with a fiery trotter racing over the bumpy small-town pavement. Then the entire column of Seminary children sinks into a deep court curtsy, which amuses the young gentleman so much that he turns around at next opportunity in order to possibly have such pleasure again.
They return home hungry and tired. They are also silent at lunch; because here, too, they are supposed to speak French, or English, depending on whether it's Thursday or Saturday. Only on Sunday free chatting is allowed, as one was used to at home. The food is lukewarm and cold; because the kitchen is very far away. One stands up again with a half-full stomach. A short break during which onr can walk around in the locker room, in the living rooms and corridors or in the garden.