Applause erupts once again as Manuela enters the hall. Her seat is reserved, and Edelgard and Marga sit by her side. "Bunny" slips into the hall. "Well, kids, you're staying unsupervised today—don't make any mischief, behave yourselves property! Have you understood?"
A loud "Yes, Fräulein von Kesten" accompanies her out. As soon as the coast is clear, Ilse takes the floor.
"So, kids, let's drink to the health of our heroes, what?"
Everyone agrees. They take the glasses,
"For the knight Nérestsn, hooray, hooray, hooray!"
They start to drink, but most of them, dissapointed, quickly remove the glass from their mouths again,
"Yuck, what's that?"
Ilse was the first, Lilly followed her.
"That's supposed to be Swedish punch!"
"Pig neck," a sad voice says.
"Hair tonic."
"Sugar with alcohol," another one said.
"It makes you feel bad!"
Everybody quickly puts their glasses back on the table. Only Manuela has emptied hers. Edelgard notices,
"But Manuela, you've finished your drink!"
And Manuela laughs cheekily and overconfidently at everybody,
"Never mind! I don't give a damn at all how it tastes today! I'll just close my eyes and I'll not taste anything. The main thing is, it's alcohol."
"Well, you, if you like it, you can have mine too!" and Ilse von Treischke pushes her glass across the table towards Manuela.
"Mine too."
"Mine too." And glasses are brought to her from all sides.
"Fine, children. Thank you, everything will be consumed!"
Marga warns, "Manuela, we should only drink one each."
"Oho!" An indignant chorus is against her.
"Gosh, leave Manuela alone—leave her alone if she wants to!" And Marga feels outvoted.
Manuela puts her arm under Marga's, "Come on, Marga, I'll drink this glass all by myself to the health of my dear foster mother and forgive you today for all the good things you've done for me. Cheers!"
Everybody laughs, and Marga, grumpy but no spoilsport, "Well, cheers then, you crazy chicken!"
"Oh," and Manuela throws both arms in the air, "why shouldn't I be a little crazy?" And then, thoughtfully, "I think I am a little crazy; because I'm doing exceptionally well—I'm perfectly fine."
"Well, we have to mark today in red on our calendar because of this sentence."
This time it was Oda who joined the conversation. Oda had avoided Manuela since that encounter, but when she looked over at her, Manuela took her glass again,
"Cheers, Oda—let's be good to each other, yes?"
Manuela wanted to be reconciled with everybody today at all costs, and Oda stood up and walked solemnly around the table with her glass,
"Lela," she asked quietly, "tell me one thing: can't you love me a little?"
Manuela was a little frightened, but then she shouted loudly so that everyone could hear, "Yes, of course I love you, I love everyone today, without exception!"
Turning around, she took Edelgard in her arms:
"Children, doesn't Edelgard look cute?"
Edelgard's hair was light blonde, and the light-coloured veil and flowing white robe really suited her wonderfully.
"She looks wonderful! But she's still nowhere near as good an actress as you. She spoke far too quietly."
This came from Oda, who had returned to her seat.
"Oh, Oda, she had to! She was a girl, after all."
"But you, Lela, you were a man? Your voice was also quite low, and then suddenly you had movements that were so real—we believed this evening that you—that you were actually half a boy."
"Cheers, Oda!" And they both empty their glasses. Lela is standing upright by the table while the others are sitting down.
"Oh, kids, it was nice to be able to shout out one's feelings like that!"
"How so, they weren't your feelings at all," says Mia.
"Yes, they were mine."
"Certainly not! Edelgard didn't become your sweetheart. It turned out that she was just your sister."
Manuela smiles,
"Yes, my sister, but that's nice too, isn't it?"
As if they all had to understand her, she looked round the circle. Then music sounded from the other side of the room. Marga had sat down at the piano. Mia had joined Manuela,
"Come on, knight, let's dance."
Manuela calmly put her arm around Mia. Together they stepped forward behind the table where people had made room. There weren't many pairs dancing. Most of them preferred to sit around and watch. But Manuela was a sought-after partner because she could lead. Mia was a dark-haired girl with light grey eyes. She had something gypsy about her. Although she was Lela's dormitory neighbour, Lela knew nothing about her. Mia spoke little. She was mostly grumpy, went her own way and didn't seem to care about much except Oda. And this friendship, too, was said to be one-sided. Mia, it was said, only put up with Oda's affection. But she never gave Oda gifts.
Manuela felt a little dizzy. She guided Mia safely and skilfully among the other pairs. People watched the two of them admiringly.
"Lela," Mia suddenly said quietly and laid her head against Lela's. It was better to dance like this. Both faces were close together.
"Yes?"
"I want to show you something, but nobody is allowed to see it except you."
"Yes, Mia, what is it?" Manuela wasn't very curious, but she didn't want to be unfriendly to anybody today. "Come out into the corridor with me. Then I'll show you. If we dance out now, nobody will notice."
And Lela skilfully led Mia out between the tables. They stopped in a half-lit window niche. Without a word, Mia unbuttoned the cuff of her sleeve and began to bare her left arm. Manuela watched her. There was a terrible wound on Mia's white, narrow upper arm; the skin was swollen and red. At first, Manuela thought it must be a badly healing vaccination mark, but then she noticed that the bloody, partly scabbed lines formed a monogram, "E. v. B."
Manuela looked at her arm in horror and then at Mia.
"I'm not going to let this heal . . ."
"But Mia, doesn't it hurt terribly?"
"Yes, that's how it should be. I always, always feel it, and today I wanted you to see it."
Manuela carefully pulled down the sleeve, her hand trembling a little. She didn't know what to say.
"Mia, dear . . ."
Then, as if she had suddenly come to a decision, she pulled Mia back into the room and shouted loudly over the tables, "Children! I must make a speech too!"
She quickly downs another glass that someone is holding out to her. She wants to climb onto a chair and has already put one foot on the seat, but as she suddenly becomes unsteady, she has to get help. Then she stands.
"Ladies and gentlemen . . ." she begins, high above the heads of the audience.
Everyone laughs.
"Well, that's how one starts!" She feels a little dizzy and doesn't really know how she needs to keep on talking. So she decides to change her tone,
"Well, children, I have to tell you something . . ."
"What?" They move closer to her. Manuela bends down and holds on to Edelgard and Oda, who are standing next to her,
"She gave me a present," comes out hastily.
Single interjections: "Who? What?"
Everybody starts to take an interest.
"To me," and Lela stands upright again. "To me! A chemise, and I'm wearing it. I feel it here on my breasts, on my body—cool, good!" And as she still sees no understanding and only questioning looks, she shouts it out,
"Fräulein von Bernburg's chemise—my present . . ."
At that moment, the small grey figure of "Bunny" appeared behind the children. Nobody noticed her. Everybody is clung to Manuela's figure, standing above them in a shiny, silver scaly costume, her hair loose. "Yes, to me!" And then more quietly and hastily, "She went to her wardrobe and took out a chemise and gave it to me to wear—to wear and think of her. No, she didn't say that, but I know it now . . ."
"What then? What?" frightened voices ask from below.
"Bunny" disappears. Lela spreads her arms, "That she loves me; I know that." Shaking her head modestly, "She put her hand on my head—her beautiful white hand. It goes through and through you, and is so heavy that you want to kneel and . . ."
At that moment, Frau Headmistress and—behind her—Fräulein von Kesten entered. Some of the children noticed them and froze as if turned into stone.
Lela puts both hands on her breast, "Feeling this makes one feel good! From now on, I only want to have good, pure thoughts. I want to be a good person!" And louder and louder, "Nothing more can happen to me; she—she's here—she . . ." She pauses for a moment and then, as if remembering the actual purpose of her speech, she picks up a glass hastily,
"To our beloved, our saint, our good, our the one and only, glorious . . . Long live Fräulein von Bernburg!"
Finally, she notices the children's movement. Frau Headmistress pulls those in her way aside and stands close to Manuela, who pulls herself together with the last of her strength and looks her in the face without fear,
"Everybody should know: she—she is the miracle, she is the love that is higher than all reason . . ."
Then the glass falls from her hand and shatters. She closes her eyes and falls into the arms of Edelgard and Oda, who catch her.
An eerie silence spreads. Horrified, the children retreat. Fräulein von Kesten is running about busily, "Water! Lift her up! Carry her away!"
Frau Headmistress knocks the cane loudly on the floor, "A scandal, a scandal!"
The nurse from the "hospital"—a remote part of the Seminary—has already rushed over. She, Edelgard, and Ilse carry Manuela along the corridor. Herr Alemann is standing in front of his porter's lodge.
"Quickly!" Fräulein von Kesten shouts to him agitately. "Call Herr Surgeon-Major. We want him to come here immediately! A child has fainted!"
Herr Alemann calmly watches the strange procession and, scratching his head, betook himself to the telephone.
Once in the hospital room, Manuela—who still has her eyes closed—is laid on a sofa that is waiting for her. Nurse Hanni checks Lela's pulse.
"You can go now!" Fräulein von Kesten tells Edelgard and Ilse. "Well, will it be soon?" Fräulein von Kesten is very nervous. So the two have no choice but to go out quietly.
Inside, Nurse Hanni tries to remove the child's costume. Fräulein von Kesten paces up and down the room. Nurse Hanni feels Lela's forehead and lets her hand rest on Lela's heart. Shaking her head, she kneels down, takes off Lela's shoes and stockings and then spreads a white woollen blanket over the child.
At last, there is the sound of sabre-rattling in the corridor outside. It's Herr Surgeon-Major. Treating the children at the Seminary is just a sideline for him, he actually treats only soldiers. But he doesn't mind, "Nice girls," he likes to say, "always just childhood illnesses . . ."
As he enters, he raises two fingers to his cap. "Good evening," he says loudly. With difficulty and groaning, he takes his cap off his head, takes off his grey military coat, strokes his soft mustache, unbuckles the saber and places it in nurse Hanni's arms.
"An unusual case, Herr Surgeon-Major," says Fräulein von Kesten.
"I see," growls the Surgeon-Major. And approaching Manuela, "Well, what's wrong?"
He feels for her pulse and bends down, "What, unconscious?" "Bunny" nods, mouth closed tightly.
"Well, how did that happen? Now tell me, Fräulein von Kesten. Has something been going on here?"
When the colonel waa shocked, he was not polite. Stuttering, "Bunny" briefly recounted the events leading up to the faint. When she came to the main point, the speech—the content of which she shamefully concealed—the old man bent over the child and smelt her mouth. He smelt once more to make sure and then fell onto the nearest chair, laughing loudly. He rubbed his knees in pleasure. He snorted until he had to cough. Fräulein von Kesten and nurse Hanni—who had been waiting in the background—stared at him in horror. He looked back and forth between the two women, his face red as a lobster, and smiling blissfully, and as if he had the best joke to tell, he blurted it out,
"Drunk–completely drunk!"
"What?" Fräulein von Kesten had made a step forward. Nurse Hanni stifled a laugh and put a straight face on with difficulty.
"Herr Surgeon-Major!" Fräulein von Kesten could hardly speak. "How can you say something like that!"
The old man stood up again and examined Manuela once more.
"I can't help it, it's true; and she's done it thoroughly."
Then he looked Fräulein von Kesten in the face from below. "What damn stuff have these girls been drinking there? That stinks of spirits! The little one has got quite nice case of alcohol poisoning."
"But I assure you, Herr Surgeon-Major, you are mistaken. Each child received only a very small glass of Swedish punch self-prepared by our cook."
But the old gentleman is not deterred.
"Well, let the child get a good night's sleep, hopefully everything will be fine again tomorrow or the day after."
"Herr Surgeon-Major, I count on your discretion . . ."
"What, discretion? Because of the tipsiness? God, mademoiselle! There's nothing to it! Why shouldn't someone be tipsy? But what I wanted to say, nurse, put the little one in the sick-room, and if there's anything wrong, just call me. I don't like her heart very much. Keep a close eye on her pulse - she might need a little injection. I'll leave you something." And he put what was needed on the table.