"Children, the new one, the new one!"

One calls and four run to the window. Ilse von Westhagen is in front of all, opens the window wide against the strict ban, and everyone's heads squeeze into the open. Below a cab is standing like the ones that lead a boring existence at the railway station in Hochdorf. An elderly lady has just stepped out of it. The footboard sinks low under her weight. She takes some money from a large, but already quite worn wallet and pays the coachman.

"Should I wait, lady?" Says the latter.

"No, no, I don't need you anymore, I'll go on foot."

Up at the window, they follow the processes closely.

"You, she's coming out now!" whispers Ilse excitedly, pinching the arm of Lilly, who is leaning on the window next to her.

"Ow, you, stop it!"

"Man, for God's sake, don't make any noise!"

But they forget the beginning of the quarrel when Manuela gets out of the carriage.

Manuela's first look is at the large building in front of her. At first she thinks the coachman must have made a mistake and accidentally led her to a barracks. A huge stone box with windows, windows, windows—row upon row—and a big, tightly locked gate.

"But, child, just take the handbag!" she is snapped out of her contemplation by Aunt Luise.

Frau Alemann rushes to the latticed door, because Alemann cannot button the uniform so quickly, opens it and takes possession of the suitcase. She leads the way, and aunt and niece walk behind her through the front garden. Manuela has noticed the curious looks from above and lowers her head. But the girls also retreat from the window, startled, because Fräulein von Kesten has entered behind them and put an end to their pleasure with an energetic, "What is that supposed to mean?" She went to the window and closed it with a violent movement. "You know that it is strictly forbidden to open windows and look out.

What are the people on the street supposed to think when you loll out there like the—like the maids! Ilse, have you tidied up your locker?"

"No, Fräulein von Kesten."

"Rounds are in the afternoon, so . . ."

One by one, they walk silently and go out of the roomk5 shamefully.

Fräulein von Kesten had not always been a governess, not all her life; although the idea that she had once been young, or even a child, was difficult to imagine at the sight of her. General von Kesten, her father, was a soldier of many merits. He wore the broad red stripes and his grey seal mustache with honor and prestige. His three sons were in the cadet corps; because it was cheap and prepared them for the officer carreer. Little Armgard went to school and was called "the Bunny" by schoolgirls. When she grew up she was still called "the Rabbit," and when the brothers were placed in different regiments and were required to take Armgard "the Bunny" to the ball, they sighed. Yes, Armgard sighed too. The cut-out ball gown made of cheap silk with artificial forget-me-nots given by an aunt was only pretty as long as you stood in front of the dark mirror at home in the light of the kerosene lamp. In the great hall under trains, jewellery and uniforms, she was obliterated and huddled somewhere against the wall until a very young lieutenant or ensign received the forceful order from his superior to dance with "Bunny." When other girls had their arms full of flowers and beaming were escorted by the laughing officers down the wide staircase to the carriage, she would sneak home on foot, behind the servants if possible, with one or two poor little bouquets, alone, or quite superfluously guarded by Dad or Mum. Then when further invitations came, she refused them. It was just torture. "But what does one do with 'Bunnies'?" "Rabbit" wanted to learn something. But what? Learning cost money, and what if she had learnt something? No, no, the best thing was for her to be placed somewhere, for example, in a hospital as a nurse. But "Bunny" seemed to be weak and also had no real inclination to care for the sick. Everyone was very happy about how the opportunity presented itself to send her to the seminary. There was no shame in that, and "Bunny" now had a work for life. She was congratulated, and the young girl herself already believed that it was honourable and a distinction if she was admitted to this post, for which many hundreds of other Bunnies had applied. She seized the "task" with all her strength. She wanted to comply with the rules and regulations of the house completely and have them complied with. She wanted to sacrifice her whole small, weak person to the good cause. She would obey every order from above punctually and enforce that her orders were obeyed punctually. What came from above was good and right. And what she did was good and right. Life outside these walls had never had any appeal for the girl Armgard, and so her whole soul now belonged to the inside of this house, with no longing or desire beyond. So at the age of twenty, "Bunny" put on the grey dress, the unyielding cloth of which apparently prevented her body from developing, and so she parted her hair in the same place until the end of her life.

"Hasn't that doorman's wife announced us?" wondered Her Excellency von Ehrenhardt, sitting stiffly on a chair in the reception room. The door of the room was open, opposite was the doorman's lodge. "Take a look, Manuela; I don't have that much time, I have to be at Aunt Irene's at one o'clock." Manuela timidly knocked on the door opposite. She was almost frightened by the mighty "Come in" that Herr Alemann called her from outside.

"So, Fräulein von Kesten is not here yet? Well, we'll give her a ring again," he said good-naturedly.

He plugged in and then reported by standing at attention in front of the telephone.

"Her Excellency von Ehrenhardt is waiting in the reception room."

Then he smiled good-naturedly at Manuela: "Well, soon she will 'sail down'."

When Lela stepped outside the door, she really ran into Fräulein von Kesten. Without greeting, she turned to her,

"The porter's lodge is not to be entered by you children, it is strictly forbidden. You have nothing to do with Herr Alemann." And then, a little friendlier, "So you're the little new girl?"

And without waiting for an answer, she steered Lela, as if she were out here in danger, into the reception room.

Herr Alemann closes the big gate behind Her Excellency von Ehrenhardt. She walks away like someone who has done a good job. Her conscience is light—she has done her part. Or can anything better be done to a child than to be put in the most distinguished institution there is? Now the child is safe. Now she will become what is desirable, namely a decent person, and it also has the enormous advantage that it will not burden Meinhardis or the family, since she was given a free place, thanks to good connections. For the next few years, the question of Manuela is now solved. Thank God that Meinhardis came to his senses at the last moment. Oh yes, the child, unfortunately, is very similar to him. The same temperament, the same recklessness—this love for all sorts of outward appearances ...

Nothing at all from Käte, my poor sister, thinks Luise von Ehrenhardt and looks up at the sky with a sigh. She should have kept the cab waiting; because it was starting to rain slowly.