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would take to ride the short distance. “You can take the tram.”
    Marta decided to walk. She wanted to see some of the city, and who knew how many days would pass before she had free time to do whatever she pleased. Was the school in session on Saturday? She didn’t know. Knapsack over her shoulder, she hurried from the station and strolled along a cobblestone street, looking up at the high stone buildings with flags flying. She paused to watch the tower clock’s animated figures strike the hour. She passed by plazas and wandered in the crisscross of arcades lined with cafés, jewelers, clothiers, pastry shops, and shops with window displays of chocolate.
    As the sun dipped, Marta hurried toward the bridge across the River Aare. She climbed the hill and found the street name on the letterhead. By the time she found the right address, she felt tired but exhilarated. No sign told her she’d come to the right place, and the house in front of her looked like a grand mansion rather than a school.
    A woman in black dress, white apron, and cap answered the door.
    Marta gave an awkward curtsy. “I’m Marta Schneider from Steffisburg.” She held out her documents.
    “Never curtsy to the staff,” the woman said as she took the papers, glanced at them, and beckoned her in. “Welcome to the Haushaltungsschule Bern .”
    She closed the door behind Marta. “I’m Frau Yoder. You’re the last to arrive, Fräulein Schneider. You look tired. You didn’t walk, did you?”
    “From the train station.” Marta gaped at the grand staircase and the walls with portraits in gilded frames, the finely woven rugs, the porcelain figurines. This was a housekeeping school?
    “Most people ride back up.”
    “I wanted to see some of the city.” Marta stared up at the ceiling painted with angels. “I wasn’t sure when I would have a free day to see the sights.”
    “You’ll have Sundays to yourself. Come. I’ll give you an orientation tour. The downstairs holds the parlor, living room, the count’s offices, and the countess’s conservatory. The kitchen is on the other side, next to the dining room. The second floor has a ballroom and several large bedrooms. The third floor has most of the guest rooms. You and the other girls will be in the fourth-floor dormitory. The classroom is there also.”
    Frau Yoder walked head high, hands clasped in front of her. She extended her hand as she identified each room and allowed Marta a few seconds to glance around at the rich interiors. “The countess receives guests in this parlor. She had the walls repainted royal yellow after visiting the Schloss Schönbrunn in Vienna last year.” She lifted a hand before clasping both in front of her again. “That’s the countess’s portrait over the fireplace. She’s lovely, isn’t she?”
    A young woman with dark eyes and long, flowing black hair over bare shoulders seemed to stare down at her. The countess wore a necklace of diamonds and emeralds around her slender throat, and her dress looked like something from a history book Marta had read. “She looks like Marie Antoinette.”
    “Let’s hope she doesn’t end up the same way.”
    It seemed a surprising thing to say, and especially with such a dry tone. Frau Yoder moved on. Marta followed, growing more curious. “Do the count and countess conduct the classes?”
    “They will speak with you on occasion, but I do the teaching.”
    “Saintonge. Are they French?”
    “It’s not polite to ask, Fräulein.”
    Marta blushed. “Oh.” And why not? she wanted to say, but Frau Yoder moved on down a hall. Marta felt like a duckling racing after its waddling mother. “How many other students are in attendance, Frau Yoder?”
    “Seven.”
    “Only seven?”
    Frau Yoder paused and turned. She looked down her nose at Marta. “Only the most promising are accepted.” She looked Marta over. “Your coat is custom-made, is it not?”
    She had made it herself, but didn’t feel inclined to tell the