The first spring flowers are blooming on small beds, on bare walls in the garden. The bushes have young greenery. Some children are busy digging and planting. Others walk around—a book in their hand—reading. Manuela has found a secluded corner and is quietly reciting hymns from the hymn book. She covers her ears, so as not to hear the shouting and noise of the other children. But then she puts the book on the bench next to her and calls, "Edelgard, Edelgard!"
Without answering, Edelgard slowly makes her way around the bushes towards Manuela. "Hi," Manuela calls her eagerly, "I think I can do it now. And you?"
"Oh, Lela, I can't learn anything—nothing at all!"
Edelgard lets herself fall wearily on the bench next to her. Manuela moves close to her
"Edelgard . . ." Edelgard is starting to cry already. "But, Edelgard, again. Has something happened?"
But Edelgard shook her head.
"Homesick?"
The word releases terrible sobs in Edelgard. Manuela wraps her arms around her.
"Edel! Edel, don't! I can't listen to this—I have to cry with you. Don't, Edel, please, stop!"
"Oh God, Lel, if I could! But I can't, forgive me. I've been wanting to cry for days, and I've been pulling myself together all the time, but now, now I just can't take it any more! You know, when I see the pansies and the snowdrops here . . . You don't realise how beautiful it is at home now. Right at the entrance of the park there are long borders of early tulips. Outside my window, birch trees and masses of crocuses, white ones that look like eggs, and yellow and purple ones, and farther—under the trees—violets. It's too stupid—"new sobs interrupt her, "but just to think about the birch trees is painful."
Manuela has become quiet. Then she says thoughtfully, "Listen, Edelgard, why don't you write this to your Mother? Perhaps you can put it the way that the ones here don't understand. Maybe she'll take you away from here sooner if she knows you're unhappy." "Oh, Mother knows! But she says I just have to persevere. She's been here for years also. And Grandma also. It's always been like this with us. Dad was in the cadet corps, and my brothers are now in the corps also. They don't like to be there either. But they will become officers some day, and that 's the way it has to be."
"But you're a girl."
"Yes, but I'll probably marry an officer, and my sons will be officers too, and Mother says we can't be slack."
"My Mother," says Lela to herself, "my Mother—" She doesn't get any further; a senseless pain shakes her, and she can't say that to Edelgard either, "If my Mother were alive, I wouldn't be here."