Sunday turns everyday life upside down. It begins with Mr. Aleman having to clean his medals. There are a lot of them. He acquired them as a good soldier in the 70–71 war. Later, he had been a footman to the Princess Mother, and as there were many foreign visitors here, he had also been remembered. Mr Alemann's parted hair was flawless, his black frock coat dust-free. Frau Alemann's apron strings were so starched that they stuck into the air. Her hair was smoothed with water, her dress freshly ironed, and so they both waited downstairs in front of her door for the ceremonial procession to arrive from upstairs. The bell of the small private chapel rang. Frau Headmistress descended silently on the red carpet. Close behind her was Fräulein von Kesten. The other ladies came one by one. They had time; because at first, the children had to come there from the side staircase. Two and two the first form appeared. They all were wearing grey cotton gloves. Fräulein von Gärschner took the lead and led the first column to the church, which was at the end of the corridor. The second form with light blue cockades was led by Fräulein von Attems, who was still struggling with her white kid gloves. The sounds of the organ were already coming towards them from the end of the corridor. Fräulein von Bernburg took the third one and Mademoiselle and Miss the last form. Then Marie followed in a black dress with a huge brooch bearing a monogram and an imperial crown. Johanna, the parlour maid, two other parlour maids with red-rubbed faces and the cook followed, Frau Alemann brought up the rear.
Herr Aleman retreated to his guard post. After all, it could happen that Her Highness, the Princess, appeared for the service; then the door had to be opened quickly. A royal pew was always empty in the church and ready for this eventuality. Slowly, the singing from inside became quieter. Frau Alemann had closed the door.
There was just a moment after the service before the visits and pick-ups began. Those who had "permission to go out" put on their own clothes, loosened their hair and tied in huge hair ribbons, much to the envy of the bystanders. They formed red, pink, white and light blue spots in all dark blue and black of the female pals. Their gestures were quick and excited. They rattled their bracelets and counted their money in small wallets. Orders about what to bring with them were whispered to them. Their head movements were jerky and not always motivated. But it was just such good feeling of the silky soft mass of loose hair against one's cheek. The passers-by admired,
"What beautiful hair you have! Is that silk, your dress? Is that last fashion?" One twirls, so that her pleated skirt makes a disc in the air. When she stands, it falls neatly back into the ironed pleats. Frau Alemann calls out the names; a quick kiss, an "Adieu, enjoy yourself!" and they already run down to meet their relatives. Herr Aleman can't open the door fast enough for them to get out.
The "enjoyment" that awaits them and is the envy of their female pals usually looks like this,
A walk through the city, where the aunt who picks up meets countless acquaintances who all talk about the same things and speak the same Hochdorf language. There are words in Hochdorf that must be spoken carelessly; because this is proof that they are commonplace. For example, one has to be able to say the long "First Guard Regiment" in one syllable. Anybody from Hochdorf can do it. The Hochdorfers are, after all, people who are far superior to all other people purely by virtue of the fact that they were born here. They have the privilege of calling the princes of the ruling house by their first names when they speak about them. Yes, if the prince's name is "Hubert" and he is married, he and his family are referred to as "Huberts." The ruling family as a whole is called "the lords," thus nobly admitting their own lower rank. But when the old prince is ill, the ladies like to say, "Well, the poor man has a lot to do . . .", or: "The poor wife is looking after him so devotedly." People actually quite liked it when a little prince got the measles; it was so human.
"My niece," the aunt introduced.
"So, you're in the Princess Helene's Seminary? Well, you have a very nice time there . . ."
Afterwards there at aunt's was a hearty and, it must be said, filling lunch, after which they retired to the study for coffee. The studies in Hochdorf were also all similar. Without exception, they were decorated with trophies. These consisted, if not of sabres and pistols, then of antlers and horns. The walls were also adorned with stuffed birds and the skins of animals they had killed themselves, naked skulls, wild animal's teeth and the like. They were particularly valuable if they came from court hunts. Many everyday objects were also made from animal parts. Ashtrays made of elephant feet, coat hooks made of deer antlers, other ashtrays made of butterfly wings under glass. Buttons made of deer teeth were worn on clothes.
All of this was duly admired by the little, pale guests who were mostly speechless due to their shyness. It was nice, it was a change, and when the aunt went with them to coffee and a military concert in the afternoon, they were absolutely happy.
Those who stayed behind retreated bored to the uncomfortable chairs in the living room or loitered around the classrooms to write letters. Everywhere in the house, evenly distributed, sat a "lady," so that there was also a supervisor. The ladies were also bored and were more inclined to start a chat here and there today. But those children who felt like it—such as Marga—who liked to cosy up to Kesten, belonged to the shunned and despised race of nerds. Most of them were happy not to have to see a grey dress on Sunday.
One could also stand at the window as long as it was not noticed. Almost always an officer with his wife, the children in sailor clothes. This uniform was invented for the children in Hochdorf. Incidentally, it is good manners in Hochdorf to wear the fashion of the day before yesterday. No matter what the excesses of the day before yesterday are involved, they just have to be from the day before yesterday. Twenty years ago, if people wore a lot of fake hair, they stuck with it, and a simple hairstyle was "impossible." The reason for this was that the reigning lady of the house was usually an old lady who, out of habit, could not let go of the fashion of her mature youth. Her way of dressing therefore automatically remained good manners in the family and thus in Hochdorf society, which counted itself a part of the family. If any member of the dynasty died, all the ladies of Hochdorf wore black, as if they had lost their own uncle.
It wasn't exactly entertaining to watch, but it can be entertaining to swap one boredom for another.
Manuela and Edelgard want to be alone. And that's the most difficult thing to wish for in this house. This is a herd, and one lives as a herd. There is always someone in front of, behind or next to one. When sleeping, when studying, when eating, when walking. Manuela and Edelgard go to a room next to the gymnasium. This is their discovery, where equipment is kept. But today they also find this place occupied. Oda and Mia are sitting close together, their faces flushed. They pull apart as the two enter. They hiss angrily at them, "We were here first!"
"But we don't want to disturb you," Edelgard says, who is blushing, and they both climb a narrow ladder. It leads to the attic. The floor is so low that one can only walk bending over, but in the middle is the tower clock. Of course one can't see anything of the clock here. It has a turret all to itself with a roof on top. Here it looks like a square cupboard made of raw wood with two large holes like windows. One can crawl in there and sit at these windows. It ticks very loudly and the huge weights hang over Manuela's head. If one were to fall, she would die without fail. But these clock weights don't fall, they just sink slowly on heavy chains, and when one pokes one's head one knows it's getting late. One couldn't expect that Frau Alemann would find Manuela there. Aunt Irene had come to visit and was waiting in the lower corridor for Manuela to be informed. Finally the call reached Lela's ears, and she hurried down quickly, so that the hiding place would not be discovered.
Aunt Irene had brought many small packages with her, and Manuela—who hadn't had enough for breakfast—couldn't wait for the visitors to leave and took a hearty bite of the cake. Visitors sat on all the benches with partly embarrassed, partly bored, partly amused Seminary children in their midst. "Bunny" patrolled up and down, spying, politely greeting and admonishing. Gifts such as chocolate and sweets had to be handed in, and it took all of Aunt Irene's skill to smuggle a package into Manuela's empty pocket for this purpose during a mock conversation. She stroked Lela's hair lovingly.
"Are you all right, my child?" she asked tenderly.
Lela looked up at her happily. At that moment, when only one person asked how she was, she realised that she was doing really well. And then, Aunt Irene really had Mum's voice, and she actually said words very similar to Mum's, and when she looked into her face, Lela clearly saw Mum's face in front of her and no longer Aunt Irene's.
Nevertheless, Lela looks around shyly for a moment before answering,
"Thank you, quite well."
Aunt Irene seems relieved. She often worries about the child. Such Seminary education is not her thing. And Manuela always looks so pale when she sees her and is so incredibly withdrawn, but that may well be due to those developmental years.
Now Fräulein von Kesten comes by and greets Frau von Kendra.
"Isn't that right, Fräulein von Kesten, next Sunday Manuela can come and visit us?"
And "Bunny" bows with a polite smile.
"If she's good and doesn't get bad marks this week . . ."
"Let's hope not!" Aunt Irene says goodbye to Fräulein von Kesten and hugs the child. She breathes a sigh of relief at the door outside. The air inside is heavy on her chest every time, but it's possible that children don't feel that way.
Sunday always went by in one way or another. Manuela had met Fräulein von Bernburg in the upper corridor, and she had stroked her head, "Well, how are you?" And Lela's heart was pounding; because she thought about her pocket full of forbidden chocolate.
In the evening, when all twelve children were in bed and the lights were still on, "Bunny" appeared unexpectedly in the door of the dormitory. She was carrying a large box—it was the drawer of a chest of drawers—and there were already all sorts of things in it, mainly sweets, chocolate, fruit, but also perfume, jewelry and money. Frozen with shock, the children looked at her.
"Who has hid forbidden things in bed here?" she asked, almost smiling. One could not escape the impression that the "Bunny" was enjoying this raid. At first everybody was silent and embarrassed. Then she started calling out the individuals that seemed suspicious to her. Those who had had visitors and those who had been with relatives and friends.
"Ilse!" and Fräulein von Kesten's piercing gaze met poor Ilse's, but she didn't give up her posture, instead, like someone who knows how to lose at cards, she reached under her mattress with a quiet "Well, I don't care . . ." and pulled out three whipped cream tarts. Although they were a little squashed, they still seemed tempting enough for the spectators. Reportedly, all these things were kept and given back to the children when they went out or on holiday. But firstly, a lot of things spoiled, and in the end, everything didn't seem to be there any more. For now, it was certain that the good things that one wanted to enjoy in the silence, peace and darkness of the night were lost.
Fräulein von Bernburg was not there. That was a consolation to Manuela when she, in front of everyone, slipping her bare feet into her slippers, in her shirt as she was, went to hand in her chocolate.