It had been three months since Maria was sent to Vienna, and the city no longer felt as daunting as it once had. She was just walking home from the orphanage, her heart full after another rewarding day with her little choir. The children had recently been given permission to sing at the local church, and although they were nervous at first, they quickly found their footing and, much to Maria's delight, enjoyed the experience.
Gretl, the youngest, was simply thrilled to be included. Her sweet, innocent enthusiasm made every moment joyful. Marta, on the other hand, had shown great potential, despite her natural shyness. Maria could see that with a little more encouragement, Marta would grow into her talent and, hopefully, gain more confidence along the way.
Brigitta had joined with an air of pride, something Maria quietly noted. Pride, after all, was a sin. But Brigitta was still a child, and Maria didn't want to dampen her spirit. She smiled indulgently, allowing the girl her moment of satisfaction.
Kurt and Friedrich were less enthusiastic about the choir itself but never missed a session, thanks to the snacks Maria faithfully brought after each rehearsal. Maria chuckled to herself, knowing full well that their participation was more about the treats than the hymns.
Last, but certainly not least, was Liesl, now 16 years old and the oldest among them. From time to time, Liesl would help Maria manage the choir, her maturity standing out in the way she guided the younger children. Liesl had initially told Maria that she had no particular reason for joining the choir, and that she simply wanted to help. However, Maria had her suspicions, and they were soon confirmed.
One day, during a rehearsal, Maria caught Liesl's eyes wandering toward the church pews. It was a subtle thing at first, but Maria knew that look well. Liesl's face brightened, her smile softening in a way that only a young woman in love could manage. Curious, Maria discreetly turned her head and saw the reason for Liesl's distraction—a young man, not much older than her, smiling back at her from across the church.
It didn't take long for Maria to piece it together. Liesl's frequent participation in the choir was more than a simple desire to sing or help; it was an opportunity to see this young man. Maria sighed to herself. She knew what it was like to feel the pull of young love, but she also knew the delicate path Liesl was treading. Maria would have to speak with her soon, gently, about matters of the heart and the importance of honesty with oneself.
For now, though, Maria let the moment pass. There would be time to talk to Liesl, but for now, she let the young woman enjoy her secret, fleeting glances—until the time came for her to face the truth.
Maria couldn't help but smile as she reflected on how each child in her choir had a unique personality, each contributing in their own way to the music they made together. She had grown fond of them all, seeing their individual strengths and quirks, and guiding them in both music and life. Their little choir had even gained a modest reputation around Vienna, becoming known for their heartwarming performances at various charitable events.
They began to invite her and the children to sing, drawing in donations for the needy. These events became more frequent, and each time they sang, more people heard about their work and the good they were doing. The children loved the opportunity to perform, and Maria was filled with pride at how they handled the attention.
As word of her grew, so too did the support from religious groups. Many offered their resources to help further her charitable efforts, recognizing in Maria someone who embodied the principles of faith and kindness that they sought to promote. Though her work was growing, Maria remained humble. She knew all of this was God's will, and she was simply walking the path He had laid out for her.
Despite the growing recognition, Maria remained focused on her choir, the children she had come to love, and the simple joy of bringing music into their lives. That, more than anything, brought her happiness.
As Maria left the orphanage that day, she couldn't shake off the encounter with the well-dressed man, Max Detweiler, an impresario who had been lurking around Vienna to find new talents for the local festival next month. His enthusiasm for the children's talent was contagious, and while she had politely declined his offer, she appreciated his recognition of the choir's abilities. It was rare for someone outside the religious and charitable circles to show such interest in their work, and Max's demeanor, full of cheer and warmth, left a positive impression on her.
She glanced at the business card he had given her. Though she wasn't sure if the children were ready for such a public event, the idea of showcasing their voices at a festival sparked a small thought in her mind. Maybe, with time, the children would be confident enough to perform beyond the church walls.
Maria placed the card in her bag and made her way back to the convent, smiling to herself as she recalled Max's playful pout when she turned down his invitation. She appreciated his persistence, but her main concern was always the well-being of the children. They had grown so much under her care, and she knew it was her responsibility to guide them gently, without pushing them too far out of their comfort zone.
As Maria returned to the convent, her thoughts lingered back on the strange gossip she had overheard about the man whom they call the "Captain." This Captain everyone seemed to talk about intrigued her, though she knew better than to let her mind dwell on idle rumors. Yet, in a place like Vienna, where news traveled fast and people loved to discuss scandal, it was hard not to catch bits and pieces of this man's story.
She couldn't help but feel a pang of curiosity. The Captain, a man who once belonged to one of the most well-regarded families, had somehow found his way into Stuwerviertel, Vienna's most notorious district. It was said that he had vanished from his privileged life after abandoning his bride at the altar. The reasons were unclear, and the speculations were many. Some said he had fallen for a woman of questionable reputation, others whispered that the pressures of nobility had been too much for him. And then there were those who claimed he had simply given up on everything, choosing to escape to a place where no one would judge him for his choices.
Maria knew it wasn't her place to judge him either. Perhaps, like many others, the Captain was lost—drifting without a clear sense of where to turn or how to find his way back. She sighed softly, reminding herself of her purpose here. There were many souls in Vienna who had lost their way, and it was her duty to help guide them back, if only they would listen.
As she walked through the convent's courtyard, she wondered if this mysterious Captain would ever be one of those who sought redemption. It seemed unlikely—someone so far gone into the depths of Stuwerviertel wasn't likely to come knocking at the convent's doors. But then again, life had a way of surprising even the most steadfast. Perhaps, one day, she might cross paths with this man and offer him the kindness and understanding he needed to find his way back.
Rumors about the so-called "Captain" had only begun to swirl a few months ago, yet he had already gained a certain notoriety. His club, nestled deep in Stuwerviertel, was now referred to by the churchgoers as a den of degeneracy—a symbol of corruption, luring men and women alike into temptation. The older women of the church were particularly vocal about their concerns, imploring the priests and nuns to take a stand against this man who, they claimed, was corrupting their husbands, sons, and youth.
Maria overheard the triplets gossiping about it once more as she passed by the bakery. They told her they had just heard another radio segment about him, an interview with the Captain himself. According to the broadcast, the man had boldly declared that he didn't care about those who sought to ruin him for "ruining" others. He was completely unapologetic, embracing his role as a figure of scandal. In a city like Vienna, Maria thought, it seemed that even a man like him could be interviewed as if he were a celebrity. And perhaps, by the city's standards, that's exactly what he had become.
The triplets, much to Maria's surprise, seemed to have a certain fascination with him. Despite his reputation, they spoke of him with a kind of reluctant admiration. They had heard from others who had seen him in person that he was tall, dark, and handsome—a mysterious, almost romantic figure in the way he carried himself. And then there was the way he treated the women in his club. According to the rumors, he was fiercely protective of them. Men who disrespected or mistreated the women were immediately banned from the establishment. The Captain didn't stop there—he apparently ensured that these men were publicly shamed, their names and faces made known to the local community so they could never return.
How heroic and gentlemanly, Maria thought for a fleeting moment. But was it all for show? Was this some twisted attempt to create an illusion of righteousness, to cover his deeper sins? After all, he was still luring people away from God, pulling them into a world of vice and temptation. No matter how he dressed it up, no matter how charming he seemed, it didn't change the fact that he was leading others astray.
Maria shook her head. The Captain's story, as captivating as it was, reminded her of how far some people had drifted from the path of righteousness. It saddened her to think that, in a place filled with such beauty and culture, so many souls were turning their backs on God, seduced by the allure of a sinful world.
The church had been divided on how to address the issue. Some believed that the best course was to confront him publicly, to speak out against the club and its influence. Others, however, felt it would only fan the flames of his notoriety, giving him more power in the eyes of those who were already drawn to his rebellious image. Maria wondered what the right path would be—was it to speak against him, or to reach out in understanding and try to guide him back? A man like that seemed unreachable, lost in his defiance. But she had seen people change before. Maybe, just maybe, this infamous Captain could find his way back too, though it seemed like an impossible dream.
With a sigh, Maria turned her thoughts back to her choir. They needed her full attention, and she had a lot of work to do if she wanted to keep guiding these children toward a better path, away from the darkness that seemed to lurk around every corner in Vienna.
After circling in the courtyard, she was greeted by the sight of two familiar figures standing near the convent entrance. Frau Liutberga "Lulu" Valenta, the outspoken wife of a local politician, and her ever-present companion, Frau Luttenberger, were waiting, no doubt seeking an audience with the Mother Superior. These two women were regulars at the church, known for their bold opinions and unyielding drive. Though they were pillars of the community in many ways, Maria always felt a touch of intimidation whenever she crossed paths with them.
Frau Lulu had become somewhat of a figurehead for a growing movement of women determined to "fight" against the Captain and his den of sin in Stuwerviertel. Maria had heard about the group in passing—apparently, they had recruited over thirty women in just a week. Frau Lulu's husband's political connections had undoubtedly played a role in the group's rapid growth. Their aim was clear: to bring back the people's fear of God and stamp out the corruption that they believed the Captain was spreading throughout the city.
When Frau Lulu noticed Maria, she greeted her with a cheerful, "Good evening, dear!" Her eyes sparkled with a kind of energetic fervor, and Maria felt herself tensing slightly under the woman's sharp gaze.
"I've been following your wonderful work since you arrived in Vienna," Frau Lulu said, stepping closer. "You're truly a shining example of how a woman should behave. Always so selfless, teaching the children at the orphanage, leading the choir, helping the homeless, and organizing the food drives... You're an angel in our midst."
Maria smiled politely, though she felt a little overwhelmed by the praise. "Thank you, Frau Lulu," she said softly, hoping to keep the conversation light.
Frau Luttenberger, standing just behind Frau Lulu, nodded in agreement. "If only more people were like you, dear. You are the complete opposite of that man," she said, with a tone of disgust. Maria knew who she was referring to even before Frau Luttenberger clarified. "That Captain—such a disgrace."
Maria offered a diplomatic smile. She had been raised to be kind, respectful, and not pass judgment, especially on people she did not know. "I don't know him personally," she said cautiously, "so I don't think it's right for me to have an opinion about him."
Frau Lulu tilted her head, clearly surprised by Maria's neutral response. "You must have heard about him, though," she said, her voice lowering conspiratorially. "The things he's done... running that den of iniquity, corrupting the youth, and tearing families apart. Surely you've heard the stories?"
"Gossiping is a mortal sin," Maria replied gently, her words cutting through the conversation like a sharp blade. For a moment, the two women fidgeted, clearly taken aback by her response.
"Well, yes... of course," Frau Lulu muttered, her confidence shaken. But she quickly regained her composure, her determination not easily swayed. "This isn't just gossip, though, Maria. This is about taking a stand for what's right. We're organizing a campaign to eradicate the sinfulness of Stuwerviertel and bring our community back to the light of God. Surely you agree that something must be done about all this corruption?"
Frau Luttenberger nodded emphatically. "We need strong women like you to join us. The Mother Superior is considering helping us, and with your support, we could really make a difference."
Maria felt her discomfort growing. The intensity of their insistence was starting to make her uneasy, and she didn't feel comfortable getting involved in such an overtly judgmental campaign. She had always believed in leading by example, not by condemnation.
"I'm flattered that you would think of me," Maria said, keeping her voice steady and polite. "But I believe that everyone deserves a chance to find their way back to God in their own time. We must be patient, and kind."
The women exchanged a glance, clearly frustrated but unwilling to give up. Frau Lulu opened her mouth to speak again, but Maria quickly added, "If you'll excuse me, I have some matters to attend to. I'll think about what you've said, but I really must be going now."
She offered them a quick, polite nod before turning to walk deeper into the convent, her heart beating faster than usual. The pressure from the two women lingered in the back of her mind, but as she distanced herself from the conversation, she reminded herself of her own values. Judgment and exclusion were not the way to lead people toward redemption. She would have to navigate this growing tension with care.
As Maria walked through the peaceful halls, she couldn't help but wonder how she would be able to make a difference in a city where judgment was loud, but compassion seemed so quiet.