Fundvogel

Then came the time when the long cucumbers grew on the manure pile. She ate them passionately and greedily. One summer morning she was out for hours riding through the fields, came back in the burning heat of the sun for her noon meal. She was so thirsty her tongue was hanging out of her mouth.

She brought her pony to the stable. Jupp and Pittje were there and offered her a beer. It was Old Kleve beer, abominable stuff, but tasted delicious to the girl. She guzzled down three full glasses, then went to the cow’s stall and got a large glass of milk. She took a knife, ran to the vegetable patch, cut up cucumbers, salted them, and ate them with her bread. She ate more and still more until she couldn’t eat any more. Her noon bread had not tasted so delicious for a long time.

Unfortunately it didn’t sit well, didn’t sit well at all. The result was very explosive and immensely sudden. Green and pale, she ran to her room much too late. It was very bad.

Petronella picked her up, washed her and brought her to bed. Andrea felt very miserable and didn’t want anyone to know what had happened. As she lay in bed she whispered:

“Please, don’t tell grandmother!”

Petronella nodded, took her clothing and carried the mess out of the room.

She turned around in the doorway, called triumphantly, “What should I tell your grandmother? That Kotts did it?”

She swung the brown and green clothing like a flag. Grandmother never heard the story but everyone else did. Whereever Andrea went they giggled. When she went back to the stables Jupp, the old coachman, laughed and said just loud enough so she could hear:

“That Kotts sure can’t hold his beer can he?”

Andrea flushed red-hot and without a word slumped out of the stable. That was the end of Kotts. No spirits can take such gossip, something always held over their head. That’s why he disappeared from Woyland.

When Jan came for vacation and asked about Kotts, the answer she gave was so loud you could hear it both downstairs and upstairs.

“Kotts? He is too stupid for me. I chased him away!”

*          *

*

Andrea was already ten years old. She had been able to play chess for a long time, played the grand piano and reed organ very beautifully, had learned how from her grandmother.

Grandmother instructed her grand daughter in ice skating as well; it was the time just before Katherine left. The last winter had been a hard one and they skated for hours and entire days. Andrea learned figure skating on the castle moat. Grandmother showed her how it was done, and then she practiced. Sometimes old Jupp played the harmonica and they skated to the music.

Once some gypsies came by, three wagons full. The Duchess cleared an empty barn behind the park for them and they stayed there over the winter. They repaired all the frying pans and kettles, made baskets out of reeds and willow twigs.

There were two men that played the violin and a young woman that played the viola. Grandmother let them come up to the drawbridge in the afternoons to play. Down below on the frozen moat she skated to the waltz with her grandchild.

One evening they burned pitch in the frying pans and placed them on the drawbridge. It was a big festival for the servants, neighboring farmers and farmer’s wives. There was dancing, glowing hot spiked punch, sausage and fancy deserts. Andrea was allowed to stay up until ten o’clock and Katherine was completely drunk when she brought the child to bed.

When she skated cross country Andrea needed to wear different skates, Hollander skates made out of wood with a very long thin steel keel that curved up in front like the runners on a sled.

They skated together, skated over the canal, brook and moat, then further over the flat ice flooded meadows down to the old branch of the Rhine. They went further, always further. It was as if the frozen world went on forever, willow bushes and alders and far in the distance the forest. There was an occasional windmill and always the thin snowflakes in the air. Hand in hand they skated through the still winter days. At noon they went into a village, rested, sat in a warm guesthouse. Then they skated back and were home by sunset.

But St. Blaise’s day of that year, the day after Maria Lichtmess came, was a day Andrea would never forget. They skated far out, almost to Kranenburg. They left very early that morning, at noon they rested in a village. This time they stayed longer. The Duchess met some farmers in the pub and spoke with them about some horses she wanted to buy. The heavy workhorses were produced and she spent a long time examining them very thoroughly. It took a long time and was dusk already when the left.

As they skated back the Duchess stumbled over a piece of wood that was sticking up in the ice. She fell down, screamed out, and sat there grabbing her foot. Andrea came up to her.

“What’s wrong grandmother?” She asked.

The Duchess shook her head.

“Nothing,” she said.

She took her handkerchief, wrapped it tightly around her ankle. Andrea could tell how much it hurt. She helped her grandmother stand back up and slowly they skated further. Time and time again grandmother needed to stop and rest. It became very dark and hard to find their way. Then the old moon came up and they could see a little further. Hours passed and then more hours.

Andrea skated up ahead, now they were skating over the gloomy brook, then she came to the high reeds on the large fishpond. She skated back; told her grandmother they were almost home. She would skate ahead and get some help, some field hands and a sleigh.

The Duchess nodded and watched her chase off, then scarcely ten steps in front of her the little girl vanished without a sound. She rubbed her hands over her eyes, believed she must be dreaming.

“Andrea,” she called. “Andrea!”

There was no answer. The Duchess ran over to the spot. There! A fishing hole four meters across was freshly cut into the ice. She, herself, had commanded that fish be caught early that morning before they left. She saw the tracks of the skates, here and there where her grand daughter had skated. Then she saw where she had fallen through the ice.

“Good God!” groaned the Duchess.

She didn’t hesitate a moment, threw off her wool jacket onto the ice, unlaced her skates, pulled them off, sprang into the dead cold water and swam. She grabbed onto the edge on the other side, took a deep breath and dived under the ice.

When she told about it later, she didn’t really know how it happened, only knew that suddenly she grabbed onto a skate, then a leg that was hanging there in the water. Then she was banging her head against the ice, pulling and tearing at it until she finally found her way out gasping for air in the freezing water.

She lifted Andrea onto the ice, tried getting out herself, slid back in, and tried again. She finally pushed the lifeless child out of the way, held onto the ice, used it like a beam, supported herself on it, lifted herself up, brought a knee up on it and threw herself forward.

She didn’t stop to breath, undressed her grandchild, rolled the wet clothing together, shoved them under the girl’s back, so that her head hung back. Then she knelt down beside her, grasped her forearms and pressed with them against the girl’s chest, then raised the arms quickly back over her head.

Again and again and still again, she worked until the sweat was running on her forehead even though the clothing was freezing on her body. She didn’t stop, not for a moment, not until the little one was breathing, until she knew that her grand daughter lived!

She rubbed Andrea from head to foot, wrapped her in the dry wool coat, took her in her arms and carried her through the night. Her foot hurt so badly that she believed she would fall any minute but she bit her lip and kept walking, first over the fishpond, up the slope, then cross-country.

The moon went down, she got lost in the darkness. There were snowflakes all around, always snow flakes. At times she would call out but no one heard. She sat down to rest on a tree stump in the pasture, groaning with pain and grasping her swollen deformed foot. Then she continued, further, further, through an eternity.

She finally came to Woyland, came into the park and screamed for her people. They came with torches and lanterns. Fanny, her lady’s maid, was the first to reach her and took the child. Klaus and Pittje wound their hands together so the Duchess could sit and carried her into the castle.

Andrea only needed to stay in bed a few days with some sniffles and a little cough. That was all. St. Blaise worked quickly. No one understood colds better than he did and this was especially right for him since the accident happened on his name day. Old Griet had prayed and explained everything to him.

Sadly grandmother was denied any help from St. Blaise and they needed to call in Dr. Peerenboom, the medical doctor from Kleeve. She had severe pneumonia in both lungs. It was weeks before she was out of danger. Then the entire left side of her face and throat swelled up from a tooth infection that abscessed and spread to her eye.

Old Griet solemnly promised that she would make the pilgrimage back to Kevelaer to honor the Virgin Mary if the Duchess would soon get better. She prayed five times a day to St. Blaise for the throat, to St. Apollonia for the tooth and to St.Odulia for the eye of her Duchess.

It was bewitched; it would not get better. The Duchess lay for months. Almost a year passed before her foot was completely well and that was only because Griet prayed to St. Judas Thaddeus. Was there anyone better for foot problems? She asked Jupp about it. The old coachman slowly shook his head.

“You can’t beat St. Judas and his walking stick,” he said.

*          *

*

Andrea thought nothing was more beautiful than swimming in the Rhine. They rode over the rich meadows away from the castle. Andrea was on her pony; Jan on a powerful Irish jumper and behind him came Pittje. They descended down to the Rhine, undressed.

The red and yellow polka dot swimsuit was long gone, had scarcely lasted a week when it finally fit. Katherine should have known that you couldn’t make a good swimsuit out of an old blouse! Andrea now had a real swimsuit, blue with a white belt, exactly like her cousin’s. Only his had a little money pouch so they could take his money with. They would need money on this swim journey.

First they played awhile on the sandy beach between Krippen and Buhnen, rode the horses into the water. Then they left their horses and clothes under Pittje’s care, swam together into the current. They needed to be careful of the steamers pulling long barges; the wake rose high over their heads and washed over them. But Andrea had not been afraid of the water for a long time, felt very safe with her cousin. When she got tired she swam up to him, laid her left hand on his shoulder, hung on and let him tow her.

They floated down the Rhine in the July sun until they saw the towers of Emmerrich, then they crossed to the other side where there was a little beach and waited. It was a place where the steamers and barges passed close to the shore. They wanted to climb on to a barge and catch a ride back up the river. Jan would go first and climb into the barge, get a rope and throw it to Andrea and then pull her up into the barge as well. She would be waiting a few meters away for the rope. It needed exact timing and kept going wrong. They needed to wait for a second, then a third steamer and try it again. Each time they got better at it.

The last time they made it and easily without effort climbed into the barge. Then they called the pilot and he pulled the barge closer so they could climb onto the steamer. The trip back upstream went slowly enough, they came to the spot where Pittje was waiting with the horses, waved to him and continued up a bit before diving head first into the river and swimming back to the shore.

The most beautiful part of the journey was when they sat close together on the deck of the steamer in the sun. Jan pulled his money out and paid their fare. The pilot brought them great slabs of white bread smothered in butter and topped with thick slices of glorious Holland cheese. Nothing in the world ever tasted more delicious than that food in the middle of the Rhine.

The sun laughed at them and everything was so young, so young!

They sat hand in hand, deeply quiet and contented staring out at the yellow-green waves and silver white combs or they looked up at the light clouds in the blue sky circling around them.

Everything was so still. She heard her heart beating.

“Jan,” said Andrea.

“What?” He asked.

She said, “When I grow up I want to marry you.”

The youth laughed, “That could be a long wait Fundvogel! I don’t want to get married. The girls all seem so dumb to me.”

“Me too?” She asked.

“You,” he considered. “You are still much to young.”

She persisted, “But I will grow bigger. When I am grown up, then I will inherit all of Woyland. Grandmother told me. Then I will marry you and give it all to you. Do you hear me Jan?”

The youth gazed dreamily at the swiftly moving clouds.

“No,” he said lightly. “I don’t want Woyland. It is only good for the Holidays. I , I want to go out into the world.”

The little girl sighed, yet her hand continued to hold tightly onto his.

This was the year Kotts suddenly appeared. He stayed for almost four years at Woyland. Kotts was a spirit and it was lucky that he was only active during the day and slept nights otherwise Katherine would have been long gone from Woyland. She suffered the most from him.

One beautiful day Katherine was washing Funvogel’s neck. Fundvogel shouted at Katherine to be careful, couldn’t she see Kotts standing there? Katherine looked and looked but didn’t see anything.

In the beginning Kotts only tormented Katherine. Andrea had placed a plate of cherries on a footstool and Katherine went to pick them up. The girl called out to her that she better not take Kotts’ meal away. The footstool belonged to Kotts. Sometimes Andrea would put a cup of water there, a piece of soap and a washcloth so he could wash up. The water stayed the way it was but Andrea said that Kotts was so clean he didn’t get the water dirty.

Katherine didn’t like it at all, spoke to all the other maids about it. They all laughed at her. Later they didn’t laugh any more. Kotts became independent and ventured outside of Andrea’s room.

Once at suppertime she led Klaus around as he waited on the table. She didn’t want him to run Kotts over. The Duchess, whom old Griet had told about the spirit, asked how tall he was.

“This high,” pointed Andrea. “He reaches up to my knee.”

“And he is called Kotts?” Grandmother asked again. “And you can see him clearly?”

“Yes, Kotts!” Andrea nodded. “Can’t you see him?”

Jan bent over the table, “Yes, there he is.”

He laughed, “He looks a little foggy.”

Grandmother said, “When you bring Kotts to the table you must also give him something to eat.”

Fundvogel took a desert plate, put some mashed potatoes on it, stuck a pickle in it, then set it on the floor.

“That’s his favorite food,” she explained.

Klaus, the HouseMaster, made a funny face.

*          *

*

Andrea gave Kotts riding lessons. Pittje had to take the pony around on the lead rope.

“Don’t slouch so much Kotts, “ she cried. “You must sit up straight! Press your legs tight against the body! Don’t bounce, do you hear? Don’t bounce!”

She turned to the groom, “Pittje, be more careful! You almost hit Kotts with your stupid whip!”

Pittje was very happy when the riding lesson was over, it was not fun to teach an invisible rider.

In the evenings the old coachman sat on the bench in front of the stables smoking his pipe. Andrea came by, cried out at him:

“Move over Jupp, you are sitting on Kotts!”

The elder looked at her, shook his head, spit on the ground. Then he said slow and deliberate, “Fundvogel is crazy!”

He took a couple of strong pulls but his pipe didn’t taste right anymore. He looked to the side next to him. Was something really sitting next to him on the bench? He stood up, went across the yard looking for another place to sit.

It went that way for some time. Andrea would forget about Kotts for awhile and there would be peace at Woyland.

But every time Jan would come to visit he would always enquire, “How are things with Kotts?”

“Thank you for asking, “ said Andrea. “He has the sniffles and had somewhat of a bad night.”

“Give him some malt candy!” Her cousin cried.

Soon Kotts began to play various little pranks. Jan had been given horse dust from the coachman at Easter and he gave it to Andrea. That was the stuff you scratched off when you curried the horse. Katherine had found this filthy thing in her bed mixed with hedgehog hairs. She woke up in the middle of the night with such itching all over her body that she thought she would go crazy! She scratched herself bloody but it was useless. She ran to the Duchess the next morning to complain. The Duchess asked who had done it.

“The Young Miss said, “ howled the large maid, “that it was Kotts. I would love to wring that fellow’s neck!”

“Then do it, “ laughed the Duchess Roberta. “You have my permission.”

But it didn’t always go so well for Kotts. A beautiful vase was broken and the suspicion fell on Andrea.

“Did you do it?” Grandmother asked.

“No,” said the little girl. “I didn’t do it. Kotts did it.”

“Now look,” cried Grandmother. “That deserves punishment, don’t you agree?”

The girl nodded and instantly her face burned from a resounding box on the ear.

“Give that to Kotts,” laughed Grandmother. “And greet him for me.”

Nevertheless the relationship between Kotts and Andrea continued to be very close. She would sit for hours on the floor conversing with him, telling him fairy tales and playing Piff-Paff-Poultrie. She was the drummer boy and Kotts was the beautiful Katrina. When it rained she went outside with him and came back soaking wet because she had held the umbrella over Kotts. She brought him earthworms, caterpillars and grubs, once she even brought him a fat maggot because he was such an animal lover.

Still, it is sad to say that Kotts came to an inglorious end because Katherine married and went back to Kalkar. Then a new nanny called Petronella came to care for Andrea. The people called her Nellie, which in Kleves was another way of saying Petronella.

Right on the first day they were arguing. Nellie refused to call Andrea “Young Miss” and forbid Andrea to call her “Nellie”. She had come too far just to endure that!

So far! She came- she came from the house in the forest, the Duchess’ hunting lodge, where her father took care of the falcons. Grandmother was called, she suggested they mutually address each other as equals. Fundvogel was enraged. Hadn’t she called Katherine, Katrina and Elizabeth?

In conclusion they both half agreed, Andrea would continue to be called Miss but without the “Young” or “Little” since she was now ten years old. In return she would be obliged to call Nellie by her beautiful proper name, Petronella. Scarcely was this peace established before a new war broke out in which Kotts played an important role on Andrea’s side.

Namely both girls had absolutely different ideas over Petronella’s position and duties. Andrea desired her as a true Lady’s maid that would help her dress and undress, keep her things in order and always be there if she was needed- like a nimble chamber maid. Like Fanny was for her grandmother.

The flaxen haired Katherine, the large lazy bumpkin, had not been suited for that at all but Petronella, brown eyed, brown haired, slim, graceful, quick and intelligent would be excellent. She would only need a little training thought Andrea.

Petronella had an entirely different view. She had spent a few years in the Heart of Jesus Cloister, had been brought up properly and was also self-taught in many skills! She could honestly read, write, do sums, knew the catechism by heart and even did needlework for everyone ten miles around.

These were all things Andrea was very weak at. Read, yes she could read. Her cousin had brought his books with and she had quickly learned because she enjoyed it. But her writing was very bad. She could scarcely write her name legibly with great difficulty. As for sums, she had never gotten past one plus one. She didn’t know a word of the catechism. In regards to sewing, she couldn’t tell a crochet needle from a sewing needle.

Petronella said that she should be ashamed of herself. That didn’t set well with Andrea at all. Could the educated creature, Petronella, ride? She was welcome to go along with to the stables, catch the pony and saddle it. Then she could prove her worth! Could she swim? Pah, she couldn’t even tend the geese! That shamed Petronella and shut her up. There were no geese at the house in the forest.

Andrea grandly declared that she would gladly learn the catechism if Petronella would in return learn how to tend the geese. But if she could ride Goblin through the yard, then she would take lessons in darning socks.

Petronella took her on. It would really be something if she couldn’t learn what this little stuck up kid could learn! Very early the next day Andrea woke Petronella up. She hung a sack around her neck and put bread in it explaining that it would be her noon meal. She didn’t allow Petronella to put on any shoes. You had to tend geese barefoot. Then she took her along to catch the geese, informed her on where to take them and not to come back before dark.

Andrea was happy, for today at least Petronella would not torment her. Then it occurred to her that it would not be much use. Tending geese was not very difficult; she had learned it in one day when she was only five years old. She would have to learn the catechism in the morning! Wasn’t there something that would make tending geese more difficult for Petronella? Suddenly she shouted with joy. Philipp! Where was Philipp? She searched around and found him in the hay by old Lene.

She called him, enticed him to go out of the stable with her. Petronella was still not out of the courtyard. She was having trouble keeping her little troop in order, which is not easy when you don’t have a switch.

The maids laughed at her but Pittje, who had fallen for the beautiful girl, took pity on her, cried out that he would bring her a switch. That was when Andrea came out from around back with the gander.

“Do you see that, Philipp?” She hissed at him exactly like he hissed at the others. She had learned how to a long time ago.

“Do you see that, she is stealing all of your geese! All of them! The goslings too! She is stealing them, stealing! Do you hear me Philipp?”

She hissed excitedly and the gander understood. He raged over the entire courtyard toward Petronella as if he were possessed. Petronella then did the dumbest thing she could have done; she hit back at him with her hand. Instantly Philipp had her arm caught, pecking at it with his large bill.

Petronella screamed loudly and ran away but the gander was faster than she was, quickly had her by the calf of the leg. Then he flew around and gripped her from the front, chased her around the courtyard. Petronella bellowed and the geese chattered. The farm hands and maids shook with laughter. It would have gone badly for her if Pittje hadn’t quickly pushed her into the stable and shut the door after her.

Andrea got a big piece of bacon, cut a slice off and fed it to Philipp. Then he went alone with his flock across the pasture.

Petronella limped painfully back over the courtyard. The Duchess stood watching in the window above.

“What happened to you Nellie?” She cried.

Petronella miserably lamented her tale of grief and difficulty with the raging gander. Grandmother had seen her grandchild by the gander, feeding it and praising it for doing well. She cried out to Andrea:

“Tell me, who got Philipp to chase after Nellie?”

In her softest and most innocent voice Andrea said convincingly, “It must have been Kotts.”

Grandmother laughed and warned, “Kotts shouldn’t instigate so much mischief.”

Then she decided over the controversy. Andrea didn’t need to learn catechism or sewing but she must become fluent in sums and writing. She was to begin immediately that day.

That was when Kotts stepped in seriously and made many appearances. He sabotaged the lessons and did it so thoroughly that no day went by without some disturbance. He always broke the tips off the pencils and writing quills, put hair, water or flies in the ink bottle, hid all the writing tablets and school books so well that you could look all day and not find them.

He also did inexcusable things to Petronella. He stretched a wire over the stairs so she tripped over it and fell hurting her leg, making it bleed. One morning her hair was so full of burrs that she had to rip out hanks of it. She found dead rats and frogs in her shoes, an old hedgehog in the foot of her bed whose quills stabbed her toes as she stretched out her legs.

“It was Kotts,” Andrea declared calmly when something would happen.

It didn’t work. Things still didn’t go the way Andrea wished because she was blamed for Kotts’ behaviors and unreasonable demands were placed on her in return.

*          *

*

That night he dreamed that his bedroom door opened. No, no, it wasn’t a dream. The door creaked so loudly that it woke him up. He raised his head, looked around, the light of the full moon shone through the huge window. The door really was open; the little girl came in. She looked dreadfully pale; he was frightened, almost believed she was dead. She wore a long nightgown; her hair had fallen down around her shoulders.

“Fundvogel?” The youth whispered.

She came up to the side of his bed and took his hand.

“Does it still hurt?” She whispered.

He said, “No, not at all!”

Then he made an awkward movement and groaned. She put her little hand on his red-hot forehead, caressing it tenderly.

“Are you mad at me Jan?” She asked.

“Why should I be mad at you?” He came back.

“Because grandmother gave you a thrashing,” she said.

He shook his head, “No, that doesn’t matter at all. I scarcely feel it.”

Then he saw how she staggered, almost fell down, grabbed his arm to steady herself.

“You are so pale!” He said. “You are so pale and very cold. You’ve certainly lost a lot of blood.”

“A little bit,” she agreed. “But it doesn’t matter. If you want, we can go catch leeches again tomorrow. I won’t scream any more.”

“No, no,” he said. “I don’t know what I want to do yet.”

She raised up on tiptoes, rubbed her cheek against his.

“Good night,” she whispered. “I must go before Katherine notices.”

She sneaked out lightly on her bare feet. That’s when he saw how weak she really was as she staggered through the door.

* *

*

He didn’t see his little cousin any more that holiday. She was very weak, caught a fever, and they needed to call the doctor. She had to stay in bed for twelve days and Jan was not permitted to see her. In the meantime his holiday ended.

Katherine had put the leeches in a bottle, she thought she could sell them in Kleve. They were worth a lot of money. Jan wanted them, claimed they were his, that they belonged to him. Katherine claimed they belonged to her because she had removed them. They agreed to share the proceeds between the two of them.

Jan was resolved to buy something for his sick cousin with his half of the money. He had Pittje saddle up old Lene so he could ride into town. The Elephant Pharmacy didn’t want the leeches, thought they had enough in stock already. The Unicorn Pharmacy offered him only five pennies a piece, but the Lion Pharmacy, the one at St. Anthony’s hospital, said they would pay ten pennies each if Jan would buy something from the store. Jan bargained, said he needed half in cash to bring back to Katherine. The Lion Pharmacist agreed. He counted them out, there were forty-nine but one was apparently dead. Four of them were horseleeches, he couldn’t use them. So he gave Jan two Marks and twenty pennies for Katherine. Jan bought candy with his share, Licorice, Licorice and more Licorice. That would make Fundvogel very happy.

But it’s a long way from Kleve back to Woyland, especially when you are riding old Lene. First he just wanted to see how it tasted. He sucked, chewed and sucked some more. It was all gone long before he was back. He consoled himself by thinking the sick girl would probably not have been allowed to eat the candy anyway.

He gave Katherine the money, asked her if she would like to go out and catch some more leeches with him. She was three times the size of Fundvogel, thick and fat. They would certainly bite on her. Katherine didn’t want to so he thought about whom else he might use as bait. He would gladly use grandmother but didn’t dare ask her. Then he thought of old Lene but that wouldn’t work either so he gave up on catching any more leeches.

* *

*

The leeches were long forgotten the next year when Jan came back for the summer holiday. He couldn’t ride old Lene anymore. She had been retired, permitted to run free and do whatever she wanted.

A heartfelt friendship grew between him and old gander, Philipp, who had been independent for a long time now as well. They often walked through the meadow together. The goslings had grown up and new ones were hatched but the old ones were still there as well. Fundvogel had seen to that. She had thrown a fit when they were supposed to be slaughtered for St. Martin’s day.

She had ran to grandmother, told her that they were her geese and besides, it was quite possible that they were really little girls that had been enchanted into the bodies of geese. Grandmother had agreed, had decided that all the geese should live. That year they bought the St. Martin’s day birds from a nearby farmer.

Jan wanted a Welsh pony and the Duchess presented him with one so they could both learn how to ride. Its name was Hobgoblin, but everyone called it Goblin. Pittje, the groom, said it had a devil in it. It bit or kicked as soon as you tried putting a blanket or saddle on its back. He explained that they needed to bite back. Then he bit Goblin on the ears, first the right and then the left. That way the pony learned what happened to him when he bit someone.

First they needed to learn how to saddle the pony and even before that Andrea needed to learn how to bite back. For two days she practiced biting hard into a leather strap and into fabric. Jan led her around with the strap, pulling her and she was not allowed to let go. Finally she tried her new skill on Goblin. The youth bit him on the right ear and Fundvogel on the left, bit so hard the pony couldn’t shake them loose. Then they got the snaffle bit into his mouth and buckled the bridle on before he could spit it out.

Goblin patiently let the little girl climb up on his back. He understood perfectly, was standing quietly one moment, then raised up on his forelegs and with a bound onto his back legs giving a little buck. Fundvogel crawled out of the manure pile.

Again and again she climbed up, again and again Goblin threw her off. She was finally beaten and crept away black and blue. That day the pony had won. Now Pittje joined in the work. Jan climbed up and the groom put a line on the pony and let it run around the corral in a big circle while he cracked the whip around its ears. Goblin saw that it was better to stand nicely for the little girl than to be oppressed by the two rascals.

By the next day he had already forgotten and the dance began all over again. It went like that for a week until Goblin was tame and stood quietly for the little girl. Meanwhile, she had more bruises on her body than hairs on her head.

Grandmother was away on a trip and Jan intended that his cousin be riding before her return. Afternoons he took her for swimming lessons. The yellow suit with red polka dots still didn’t fit and Fundvogel needed to go naked as she had last year. But Jan thought she looked fully clothed with all her colorful bruises, they were a rich rainbow of colors.

He had gotten a couple of pig bladders from the swineherd, inflated and tied them around her. Andrea was still afraid, but didn’t make a big scene that year. The Duchess, Roberta, came back but didn’t stay the night. She rode quickly on to the house in the forest, to her hunting lodge, where her falcons were kept.

Jan had ten more days to work with Fundvogel. Finally the day of the great performance came. He took grandmother down to the gloomy brook where Andrea needed to prove that she could swim, first with and then without the pig bladders. She wasn’t very fast, but she swam from one bank to the other side and then back again.

That evening Fundvogel sat astride Goblin in the corral as Jan ran the animal on the line letting his whip crack. Andrea crouched like a trained monkey on top of the pony. You could scarcely call it riding but she stayed on and didn’t fall down. She jumped over three hurdles. Jan explained that she had lots of talent, he would train her to become a circus performer. He also wanted to put up a tightrope between two of the castle towers, and then she could be a tightrope walker too!

Grandmother was very satisfied that evening. She commanded that from now on Fundvogel should be called “Young Miss”. None of the servants bothered, they still called her Fundvogel, at least when the Duchess was not around.

The little girl didn’t care, only Katherine needed to call her “Young Miss” and she argued herself green over it.

Or else they played Piff-Paff-Poultrie. She caught onto the game easily the first time they played.

“Good day Uncle Lecketeller,” said the youth with a deep bow. “I am Piff-Paff-Poultrie. Can I marry your daughter?”

“Thank you very much, Piff-Paff-Poultrie,” answered Fundvogel very seriously. If mother Schmutzeschuh, brother Huschefusch, sister Käsebraut and the pretty Katrina herself all agree, then you can marry her.”

“Where is mother Schmutzeschuh?” He asked.

“She is in the barn milking the cow!” She informed him in a singsong voice.

So Piff-Paff-Poultrie took his proposal to mother Schmutzeschuh and she sent him along to brother Huschefusch who was in the willow bushes. He was then sent to Sister Käsebraut who was in the potato patch. Piff-Paff-Poultrie went to all of them and made his proposal and then finally came to the pretty Katrina herself.

“Good day pretty Katrina,” Jan greeted her.

“Thank you very much Piff-Paff-Poultrie,” curtsied the child Andrea.

Then he asked if she would marry him, everyone else had consented, Uncle Leckteller in the coal bin, Mother Schmutzeschuh by the colored cow, brother Huschefusch in the willow bushes and sister Käsebraut in the potato patch.

Katrina knew then that everything was all right but she still wanted to know what he did for a living.

“Are you a brush binder?” She asked.

“No, they have too many children!”

“A clothes cutter?”

“They are always hungry!”

“Farmhand?”

“That is certainly not right!”

“Chimney Sweep?”

“A filthy job!”

Finally Jan explained that he was a drummer and smoked a long pipe.

“Piff-Paff-Poultrie!”

He needed to know what he would be receiving from her as a dowry.

“I have a gold quarter,” replied Katrina.

“And thirty pennies owed!” Piff-Paff-Poultrie sang.

But then she out trumped him.

“A thimble full of wine,
A cherished old plaster stone
Of a gnome she had found,
A hand full of pretzels
An old cat
A dead sparrow
A little reed basket
Filled full of lentils”

That decided him. They were excellently suited to each other and could put the lentils to very good use at the wedding. They sang together and he beat the drum keeping time.

“Lentils, they are the thing,
Pop them in the oven
Bake for six weeks
They stay hard as a bone!”

It was all set; they could get married in seven weeks. All the geese would be invited to the celebration and the goslings would be the bridesmaids. The gander Philipp would stand as godfather with his godchild as if she were his own. She wanted to call Jan, Piff-Paff-Poultrie, and she could be called Katrina or perhaps even Fundvogel. She hadn’t decided yet.

* *

*

They came back to Woyland as the evening sun was shining into the castle courtyard. Jan and the little girl Andrea came running in from the meadow laughing and holding hands. She took his hand gladly. It was entirely different than holding Katherine’s red lugs.

The youth suddenly put his hand over her mouth.

“Shh! Shh! Be quiet Fundvogel!”

He pulled her with him under grandmother’s window. Music rang out from it. They stood still and listened, not moving a finger.

“She is playing Bach,” said her cousin.

The little girl nodded. She didn’t understand, believed that grandmother was playing the brook, the dark brook, where her geese swam, the noise they made and their chatter. That is what she thought grandmother was playing on the organ.

But the youth said, “It is the ‘partita’. That means farewell and goodbye. ‘Partire’ is Latin for depart! I recognize it Fundvogel. She is playing it because my time is almost up, because I must soon leave Woyland.”

The little girl nodded. “Yes,” she said. “That is why she is playing it.”

She held his hand tightly. They stood together in the evening sun of the quiet courtyard of Woyland, listening, listening.

* *

*
On the next holiday Jan tried to give her swimming lessons. He had blue swimming trunks and commanded Katherine to make her a pair as well. Katherine made her a swimsuit out of an old red and yellow polka dotted blouse but it was so huge that you could fit two Andrea’s into it, one in each leg.

That didn’t matter, Katherine thought. She would grow into it. In the meantime, she needed to go without a swimsuit.

Andrea was afraid and wouldn’t go any deeper into the water than up to her ankles. The youth pushed and pulled at her but couldn’t bring her in any further than up to her knees before she tore herself free and ran out of the water screaming.

He splashed her and scolded her saying that she was dumb as a potato or a cucumber, she could take her pick. She should be ashamed of herself in front of the little goslings. They could swim as soon as they were hatched.

She was ashamed but that didn’t help much. It went on like that for almost a week before she dared venture back into the water at the brook. That remained the high point. Any further attempts to show her the movements were useless.

One day he explained that he wanted to catch leeches with her. It was something different that they hadn’t done yet. He knew of a putrid brown pond that was full of them. He led her there and had her go in only a little way, then a little more. He stayed quietly on the bank and watched.

She felt no pain and stood there in the dirty water cooking in the hot sun. The water was wonderfully warm so she got up her courage and went deeper into it until only her head peeked out.

He told her that she needed to stand very still and to keep her occupied suggested they play Piff-Paff-Poultrie. She was always ready to play that and they played it together three times, one after the other. The little girl was so into the game that she didn’t notice at all when the things bit her.

Finally he decided it had been long enough and she could come out. She came all right but how she came! The yellow and brown muck ran down off her and she was covered with leeches. Her horrified eyes opened wide, staring so hard she couldn’t even scream.

The cousin applauded in amusement, laughed in delight, praised her very highly and said there was no better bait for leeches in the entire world than Fundvogel! That calmed her down. He told her it didn’t matter how dirty she was because she only needed to run back over to the brook where her clothes were laying. She could wash herself clean there and they would take the leeches off. They would be rich; such nice leeches would certainly bring good money!

If only he had a can or cardboard box to put them in! He didn’t have anything except his own swimsuit. He took it off, pulled the waist string out and tied off the legs making a sack that he could put the beauties in.

Now it was time to pluck the dainty grape like things off, first the large fat swollen ones hanging in the middle of her belly. He broke off a small willow tree branch and tried to scrape them off. It didn’t work. He didn’t like touching the disgusting things with his fingers.

The leech thought nothing of the stick, didn’t let go. It sucked and sucked, nothing had tasted so good in its entire life!

Andrea watched, her face growing longer and longer all the time. Silent tears came into her gray eyes, ran down her back.

Jan threw the stick away, got up his courage, grabbed the leech with three fingers and pulled but the animal would not let go. It hurt and Andrea screamed.

“Wait,” he cried. “I will pull it loose!”

He grabbed onto it very hard with his entire hand and ripped it off. Blood was instantly streaming. He was terrified. The strain was too much for the little girl and she lost it screaming convulsively, howling wildly and bellowing.

“Be quiet Fundvogel!” He admonished. But it didn’t go well for him. Desperately he ripped two more leeches off her left leg. The blood streamed brightly, mixing its red in with the brown and yellow muck. She looked like an Indian, he thought. An Indian on the warpath and she bellowed like one too!

Then Philipp tore up to them. Oh yes, Philipp knew very well how she screamed when she was in danger. The little girl saw him storming to her rescue like a vengeful bronze angel.

“Philipp,” she lamented. “Oh Philipp!”

The gander was right by her now, he hissed at the youth. Was he the enemy? Then he hesitated, flapped his wings, bowed his neck, eyed her and sniffed. Leeches? He despaired of every understanding these human folk. Is that why she was screaming and yelling? He would take care of that right away. His bill shot out like lighting, then back, then out again. In no time he had caught and swallowed two of them.

Only, the hard pecking of a gander’s bill, even when well intentioned, is not very pleasant for a five year old dog naked girl. She ran off screaming to high heaven, running through the meadow with Philipp and his flock in pursuit.

The youth stood there with a dumb look on his face not knowing what to do. Then he ran after them. Dear God, that powerful gander would peck the little thing to death! Now he was screaming too.

The chase went through the park, over the drawbridge and right up to the castle door screaming, honking and making noise. All the servants ran out to them. Grandmother stood there by her horse. She had just came back from her ride. The poor hunted naked thing ran straight into her arms.

“Now what’s going on?” She asked.

“Leeches,” howled the little girl.

The Duchess looked at the mess. “Take her with you,” she commanded Katherine. “Carefully put salt on the leeches to get rid of them. Then wash the child and put her to bed.”

She turned around to the naked youth.

“You have some explaining to do!”

He obeyed, gasping for breath. “I had Fundvogel go naked into the pond as bait for leeches. She was very good at it and caught a lot of them, but it is really hard to rip them off. It bleeds.”

Grandmother laughed. Then she grabbed him by the hair and dragged him with over to the bronze stags by the drawbridge. She raised him high and laid him over one of them. Then she swung the riding whip to her heart’s content.

The youth knew that if he cried out it would be double so he bit his lip instead until it bled. He saw green and yellow spots before his eyes, would she never stop?

She pulled him down from the stag, stood him up, shook him by the shoulders.

“Do you know why you just got a thrashing?” She asked.

He pulled himself together. “Yes,” he said. “Because I used Fundvogel as bait for leeches.”

“No,” said grandmother. “That’s not why at all! It’s because you didn’t know that you needed salt to get them loose!”

She waved old Griet over. “Take the young gentleman to bed. He can’t very well sit at the table tonight. He doesn’t get any supper either.”

The limping maid wanted to put in a good word, “Duchess…”

Grandmother interrupted her, “Quiet Griet! Give the young gentleman a glass of water and nothing else.”

The limping old maid took him by the arm and led him to his room, took some oil and rubbed it over his welts and laid him in bed. He had to lay on his belly cramming his fingers into the pillow and biting it with his teeth. There was no place on his backside that didn’t hurt. There were stripes from his neck down to the hollows of his knees. He moaned and sobbed from the pain.

Then he slept.

* *

*

Once on a late summer afternoon she was sleeping under the willows near a dark gloomy brook that her geese were swimming in. The old gander was keeping watch, she called him Philipp. He was her good friend and she shared her noon bread with him.

She awoke frightened when a hot breath hit her in the face. When she opened her eyes a giant head was looming over her, it was brown and white underneath with a powerful mouth full of yellow teeth. Warm slobber dripped onto her face.

She screamed loudly, gripped the yielding nostrils with both hands and clawed tightly in her terror. The old nag threw her head back ripping her high off the ground. She let go, sprang back and hid behind the trunk of a willow tree to save herself.

“Philipp!” She howled. “Philipp!”

With outstretched wings, raging hisses, honking and spitting the gander climbed out of the water and attacked the leg of the horse. In a moment all the geese were there, flying out of the water and up the slope. The young ones attacked with their bills and held on flapping their wings. The older ones beat the horse with their heavy wings, cackling, crackling and ratcheting.

The horse shied, tried to jump high out of the quarrel and sprang to the side. The rider lost his stirrup and had all kinds of trouble trying to stay in the saddle.

But then the storm broke just as quickly as it had started. The gander was clever, he recognized the horse. Oh yes, it was old Lene whom he had gotten along well with for years. He had many times slept on the straw in her stall when he was tired of the foolishness of the geese folk!

Instantly he pushed with his wings and hissed loudly for the others to hear and then stretched his neck over the mare’s feet, almost caressing them. Immediately the noise of the excited geese died away. It was deeply peaceful as if nothing had happened. Only the young geese still flew around but he hunted them down and drove them back into the brook.

“Come out from behind your tree,” cried a light voice.

On top of old Lene sat a blond youth only six years older than her, but he seemed much larger.

“Are you Fundvogel?” He asked.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I am your cousin Jan,” he said. “I’m here at Woyland for the Holidays. Grandmother said I was supposed to bring you home.”

“No,” said the little girl. “I must take care of the geese. I will come home in the evening.”

“It’s already evening!” The youth cried. “Look around you some more barefoot!”

She looked around and saw how low the sun was in the sky. Had she been sleeping that long? She gave the boy her willow switch and tried to get up on the horse but it was not easy. She tried climbing on the mare’s forelegs while holding onto the mane. The good-natured mare turned its head to look at her.

She slid down a couple of times but didn’t give up. She kept trying. Finally she was hanging with her right hand on the stirrup and the left on the mane. The youth bent over, grabbed and pulled her the rest of the way up. At last she sat astride the horse in the saddle in front of him panting and very out of breath.

She was glad she had made it to the top. The boy was also glad and the old mare didn’t mind. No other mare would have taken such abuse.

They rode very slowly taking the leisurely strides that old Lene loved. The goose girl sighed. It was not easy to drive geese when you were so high in the air. They always tried to go the wrong way when she was not watching. But Philipp helped, wanting to prove to old Lene that he was in charge of his flock of geese.

When they reached the stable the youth reached into his pocket and took out a piece of sugar. The girl took it. She had no fear of the large animal at all and shoved her entire hand deep into the mare’s mouth.

Lene shook her head in disapproval. She couldn’t eat sugar that way and she was certainly not a willow tree for children to clamber around on!

Jan showed the girl how to do it, how to lay the sugar on the open palm of the hand so the mare could take it.

Outside in the yard Philipp was walking around. He never went to bed with the other geese folk. The gray cat went by, a mouse in its mouth. Immediately Philipp was by her, pretending to be very furious, very frightening. The cat let the little mouse fall. Snap! The gander had it in its beak and gulped it down. He saw no reason why only cats should eat mice.

Jan pointed his finger at her, “Go! Look how dirty you are! You need to wash your neck too. Who looks after you?”

“Katherine,” said Fundvogel.

The youth raised his voice and screamed across the yard, “Katherine! Katherine!”

The large flaxen haired maid came up to them in hurried strides but it wasn’t fast enough for the boy.

“Run,” he cried to her. “Run, you lazy Katherine! Lift your skirts and run when I call!”

The rascal pointed at the girl. “Take her with you Katherine,” he commanded. “Get her ready. Grandmother said she will be eating at the table tonight with us. Look at her neck, it hasn’t been washed for three weeks. You better take care of this child for me, hands, feet, everything! Do you hear me Katherine?”

“Yes, young Sir,” answered the maid.

Jan left and went straight to the castle. They both stared after him with open mouths and wide open eyes.

“Come Fundvogel,” said Katherine and grabbed her little hand.

The barefoot girl tugged and pulled at her hand until she was free.

“No, I don’t like it,” she yelled. “I won’t do it and I don’t like it. You shouldn’t lead me by the hand. I can go by myself.”

Would Katherine lead her cousin Jan by the hand? She would never dare! Young Sir is what the maid had called him!

* *

*

She sat in the great hall that night, the three of them were alone at the long table. Grandmother sat at the head of the table. Further down and on the other side sat the youth. She sat across from him and even further down.

She was washed very clean; it had cost many tears and heated arguments with Katherine. Her hair was parted down the middle and braided in little pink-banded plaits. They were so tightly braided that they stood out like little pigtails. She wore a light green dress that was freshly starched and ironed. It scratched her neck. On her feet were white stockings that were pressed into black shoes.

Grandmother laughed.

The little one sat on one of the big chairs with her nose scarcely peeping over the edge of the table. The tall butler, Klaus, waited on them with white cotton gloves pulled over his powerful paws. He pushed a pair of pillows underneath her compassionately to lift her up.

He wanted to cut her meat too but Grandmother said, “Leave her, Klaus. She should do it by herself.”

She was hungry and ready for everything that he put on her plate but something was missing. Nothing tasted right that evening, not without her milk. It was better in the barn.

* *

*

The youth told her, “Grandmother said I should give the blessing.”

Fundvogel nodded and waited. The two sat in a thicket high up on the Katzenbuckel. He didn’t know what to say. Finally he asked her.

“Can you pray?”

She nodded again, she could do that. Someone had taught her long ago, yes, her mother. But now she had forgotten.

He considered, but couldn’t think of anything appropriate. “As far as I’m concerned we don’t need to pray,” he told her. “I don’t do it anymore.”

Then she asked if he knew any fairytales. He told her they were silly but he stammered and painfully told her some, inventing parts that he didn’t know.

Once he broke off a red and white striped Field Bindweed flower.

“What does it look like?” He asked her.

“Like a glass,” said the little girl. “Maybe the elves drink out of it, or the dwarves.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But I have never heard of it. It is Our Lady’s Little Glass and Our Lady drinks out of it. Sometimes she goes for a walk and gets very thirsty. When you meet her and give her some water out of one of these she will be very happy and grant you a wish.”

“I would wish that the geese don’t run so far away,” the little girl said.

The youth laughed, “She would be happy to do that. But you know Fundvogel; you shouldn’t be with the geese so much. Maybe they are little girls like you that have been enchanted.”

Andrea thought about it.

“But not Philipp,” she decided.

“No, not him,” agreed Jan. “He’s much to clever for that.”

Oh yes, Castle Woyland! Once it was a gloomy stronghold with a moat around it deep in the dark wild forests. There was a drawbridge and a mighty gate that had once held many family crests upon it. They were the old families and when they died out another family member, another next of kin took possession.

The lost bloodlines included the Schonenveldt’s, the Eulenburg’s, the Zulnhart’s, the Wickede’s, the Bronkhardt’s, the Croy’s and the Spaen’s. Then there were no more male heirs to the land.

In the seventeenth century the red falcon of Brandenburg fluttered over the tower when a son-in-law, Frederick I , the great Elector of Brandenburg of the Holy Roman Empire, acquired Cleves, as it was then called. He helped drive the Spanish out of the land that his grandfather had inherited. The duchy of Cleves was united with the duchy of Mark and of Ravensburg.

Then he brought Louise Henrietta, the Princess of Orange, and the red falcon of Brandenburg back home with him. His grandson, Frederick II became the first King of Prussia and Voltaire was there when the black Prussian eagle flew over the tower for the first time.

Frederick the Great preferred to pass his days in his summer palace at Sanssouci where the sunbeams glittered and played rather than the dark gloomy citadel. He wanted a private place where he could get away from the busy court so he sold the old moat protected citadel.

Now the Woylands lived there. They renovated the castle and grounds in the baroque style as if it were an English property, a white palace like Windsor. They created a magnificent carefully groomed English park but the moat remained. You went over the drawbridge to get into the castle. Large bronze stags lay on both sides of the drawbridge.

The wooded hills of Woyland forest extended behind the castle. The largest hill was an extinct volcano, the Katzenbuckel. Then there was the city of Sternbusch down below, a part of Cleves. The mighty and ancient King’s forest extended to the west. To the east were rocks, meadows and low pastureland surrounded by water that extended back south and southeast up to the city of Kalkar. Fat farmers lived there. To the southwest were more undulating woodlands.

It was there deep in the woods where the falcons flew, where grandmother, Roberta von Woyland, Duchess of Kranenburg, ruled in her house by the Rhein.

Andrea didn’t know exactly when she came to live with her grandmother. Her father died before she came into the world, she lived with her mother for only four or five years before her mother died as well. She had no memory of the time she lived with her mother.

So she lived at Woyland with the old Lady. The old Lady was not really that old, forty five or forty six perhaps and there were all the servants. The little girl Andrea was always running around somewhere. No one looked after her, much less her grandmother. She grew like a weed.

The people called her “Fundvogel” like the child that had been snatched from heaven and sent wrapped in linen to bedevil old Mad Meg in the fairy tale and because she could never be found when you went looking for her. You would find her by the brook, hiding in the alders, or sleeping in the manger in the barn with the cows. Soon no one searched for her anymore but the name “Fundvogel” stayed.

Once she went to her grandmother and asked, “What can I do?”

The Duchess had no time for the little one. She was dressed in her riding clothes with a high hat from which an ostrich feather waved. Pittze, the squire, laced his hands together, she stepped into them and swung up on her horse. She was riding to Reiherbeiz with her falcon.

She cried laughingly down from the saddle, “What should you do? Go, take care of the geese!”

The little one ran straight to the stables.

“What do you want Fundvogel?” The Swiss stable boy asked.

“I want the geese,” she declared. “and you must give them to me!”

He didn’t want to but the little girl was so adamant about it that he talked to the others. It didn’t matter. He had to give her the animals, the Duchess, herself, had said it. So the Swiss lad cut her a long willow switch from a branch that was hanging overhead. He trimmed the leaves and gave it to her.

She drove the geese, thirty six large birds and eleven goslings, over the castle grounds up to the moat by the drawbridge or down through the park into the meadow. She cared for the geese every day. She carried her butter bread in a pouch that hung around her neck. Every day when the sun was high in the sky she would eat it. In the evening when she came home the first thing she would do was run to the stables for some fresh milk. She was only five years old and ran around barefoot.

Grandmother laughed.

Chapter Two

Of Geese, Spirits, and Leeches

It is the colored fool that
Gaily poaches game in Fairytales
Wild Fairytales also portray
How he opens the little box,
Takes the glittering magic dust,
Sprinkles it around, and how
Children easily make gold
Out of nothing.

-Gottfried von Strassburg

Andrea Woyland lived very much alone during this time. At dusk she would go running in the park or visit the concert at nearby Carnegie Hall.

Later, as it grew colder, she bought some ice skates and went to the skating rink. She hadn’t ice skated for over twenty years and thought she didn’t remember. She hesitated, was almost nervous, as she took her first step onto the ice. But after a few minutes her legs jumped through time and served her like they once had before. One after another all of her little tricks came back to her, the running leap, the axle, the Hollander, the triple and the vine-they all came back!

Every day she ran for a few hours. It was as if she was living a new life, hers and someone else’s. There was a remembrance, like how her legs had remembered to skate; her brain was remembering long forgotten feelings and sentiments. These feelings were like presentiments of her future.

Soon the early March winds would blow, the April showers would thunder and the sweet sun of May would kiss the green spring growth. That was how it used to be when she skated on the frozen lower Rhein by castle Woyland. The poor old Rhein would flood the lowlands and there would be smooth ice, infinite ice with no one else around.

That was how it was for her now. It didn’t matter if people pressed around her or that the pond in Central Park was a pathetic makeshift skating rink. She didn’t see the other people. It was for her alone.

Warmth filled her from these presentiments of a new spring to come. She rarely met any of her old acquaintances, but when she did, she wished them well. If they didn’t move on she chatted lightly, quickly broke off and left.

She called up Briscoe once, read Gwinnie’s numerous letters, answered them, spoke briefly with her father, only for minutes, and then wiped all of it away from her memory.

She was alone. She sat for hours in her room. When she came home from the skating rink her nerves, muscles and veins were hot, flooded with these new longings that swelled within her.

There was a half-conscious wish that she was a larva, soon to be wrapped up in a cocoon. Then she would emerge into a new dawn, her wings would grow, the narrow veil would fall, she would flutter and fly in the bright sunlight up through all the aethers.

She didn’t use makeup anymore to look beautiful, went without lipstick and face powder. Still, she was sorry she had cut her hair and wore a silk cloth around her head wrapped like a turban.

She lay on the divan, sat in the armchair. In front of her lay the white piece of paper with the words “Andrea Woyland” written on it. She wanted to write down everything that she knew about her, dozens of pages. Then, yes, she would give it to someone. Who? Who would understand the way she understood? Again she could think of no one other than her cousin, Jan Olieslagers.

Him, always him! He could scarcely care about her. She had very seldom written and hadn’t seen him for years. No, she wanted him to forget her as well. She didn’t want to give these pages to anyone. They should go into the fire, sink into the flames, just like she herself would soon be sinking.

She didn’t write a letter, not a single word. She only lay on the divan and thought about it.

Andrea Woyland found the flowers in her room when she came back to the hotel late that evening. After her visit to Central Trust bank she had gone to Columbus Circle, then wanted to go past the park on her way back to the Plaza so she walked down 59th Street.

She still felt restless and nervous, so she took a taxi out to Riverside Drive and even further along the Hudson over to Fordham and Spuyten Duivel Creek to Abby Inn. She dismissed the taxi, went into the Inn and drank some tea.

She wanted to think things over, to consider them. But her thoughts were disordered, confused and wandering, running crazy.

She paid and walked back toward New York on the Highway hoping to meet a taxi on the way. There were none so she remained on foot. She was tired; the October air was unusually fresh and gripped her making her head ache.

She cried out to every auto going into the city, but they were all full and didn’t stop. Bitterness welled up within her. She had been in this land now for over five years and never once had a single auto stopped for her!

Finally one stopped. Loud noises and yells were coming out of it as it pulled up to her.

“Take me with you!” She cried.

“Where are you going?” The man at the wheel asked.

“The Plaza”, she replied.

“Good, the Plaza,” he laughed good-naturedly. “There is always room for one more!”

It was apparently a booze party, a cheerful company that was going somewhere to party some more. There were three boys and four girls in the car and they were all drunk. She crushed in between them and one grabbed her knee laughing. She grasped some body part as well. Everyone was singing and bellowing, two females were abusing each other, quarreling and nagging. The fellow at the wheel drove like a madman.

They were stepping unintentionally on her feet and she couldn’t get out of the way, grabbing her unintentionally where she couldn’t protect herself. The girl next to her slung an arm around her neck slurring, “Kiss me Sissie!”

A boy in the front by the driver began to yell, demanding to be let out of the car, and then he threw up. Oh, it was nasty.

They stopped somewhere in Washington Heights. She climbed out, finally found a taxi and drove to the hotel. She ran straight to her room, ordered the evening meal, bathed, put on her kimono and unpacked her things.

She ate very little and sent the rest of the food away, opened the window, and looked out into the clear October night over the dead park. Shivering, she closed the window and let herself fall into an armchair. She stood up again, searched for some cigarettes and lit one. It didn’t taste good to her and she threw it away.

No, today just wasn’t her day.

She couldn’t concentrate. If only she had someone that she could talk to about all this! Just one, someone that she knew well, someone that she could leave her notes with. But who in the world would that be? She thought of all the people that she knew in the city. Who should she call? There was no one, no one!

There was her cousin naturally, Jan Olieslagers. She could speak with him. Where in the world was he? She took out his letters, the ones she had put in her purse. She read through them both, then tore them up with fierce emotion.

She sprang up very agitated and strode back and forth across the room. What now? She only knew the last letter contained news out of Germany from their Grandmother, his and hers. News that her, Andrea Woyland’s, daughter had gotten engaged and married to a former Navy Officer, a Commander, now a capable and wealthy farmer in Allgäu in Baveria near the alps. He had taken possession of land Woyland and it was now private. He had brought a new splendor to the property.

Her cousin had written three lines about it, three entire lines! That was a year ago, over a year. What about the girl, what about her daughter? What was her name? Wasn’t it Gabriele? No, that wasn’t it. She had never known the name of her baby.

It had been a year since the child had gotten married. Ah and there was a strong possibility, a very strong possibility, that she had a child by now as well! That would make Andrea Woyland a grandmother!

She calculated. She had been sixteen years old when she gave birth to this girl, this young woman that was now probably a mother. That was almost twenty years ago, twenty long years. That meant she would be thirty-six years old in less than a week!

She couldn’t sleep, searched around and finally found some sleeping pills. She put them in her mouth and washed them down with water. Then she walked up to the mirror and laughed.

What was it Parker Briscoe had said? That she was a beautiful woman, perhaps clever and most certainly valuable.

Valuable, valuable, where was her value then? Why was her life so valuable? Clever? Wouldn’t she be a lot more intelligent if she was clever?

And beautiful too! That which was standing before her, that which grinned out from the mirror, that was the real Andrea Woyland! Only that. Not what Briscoe and little Gwinnie saw!

There was no color anywhere. Her face was pale. Her skin was no longer smooth and firm. A couple of crow’s feet showed around her eyes. Light wrinkles appeared around her ears and the corners of her mouth.

There were no gray hairs. Hadn’t she carefully pulled them all out this morning before Briscoe came? But more would come and more, everyday more of them. Her breasts would sag and her neck-

She walked away from the mirror and sat down on the bed, covered her face with her hands. Then she took a deep breath and she felt good. She had done the right thing when she had told Briscoe “Yes” and shook hands with him, when she had declared that she was ready to do it, to do what he asked of her.

Andrea Woyland was ready, entirely and completely ready. Andrea Woyland had outlived her life and it was time to step away from this monkey show. Time to let go and let it happen, Andrea Woyland would disappear, would be no more. That would be good, so very good!

She stood up again, took a scissors and cut the long plaits of hair from her head. You need to begin somewhere, she thought. Then she went to the desk, picked up the writing quill and wrote with small timid letters at the top of a sheet of paper:

Andrea Woyland

She considered awhile and then thought, “I will write down everything that I know about her!” But she let the feather fall. She suddenly felt very tired, completely drunk with sleep. The sleeping pills were working. She got up, staggered to her bed, fell into it and pulled the covers up. Soon she was asleep.

At last the youth was finished. There was not much left over.

He pulled himself together, said quickly; “I have spoken with your father today, very seriously about you and me, about the two of us.”

She didn’t answer.

“Gwinnie, didn’t you hear?” He cried. “Would you put that dumb photo away!”

“The way she walks,” thought Gwinnie, “and her figure.”

“She is as tall as you Tex.” She whispered.

“As far as I’m concerned, she can be two heads taller,” he cried. “Haven’t you been listening-“

She looked up, “Yes, I heard.” She sighed. “You’ve spoken with father, about you and me, very seriously.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Very openly, eye to eye, like one man to another.”

“So,” she expounded. “Like one man to another. That must have been very boring. Give me the small mirror, Texie.”

“Gwendolin,” he attempted. “I would like to ask you some-“

She cut him off in mid-sentence. “Give me the mirror, Tex, can’t you hear?”

He handed her the mirror; she painted her cheeks again.

“Tell me truthfully, do you find me attractive? Nothing out of place?”

He got up off the bed, clicked his tongue impatiently. “Tsa, of course you are very attractive.”

“What’s out of place?” She persisted. “I want to know what you think is out of place, nothing?”

“Well yes,” he cried valiantly. “You have all sorts of things out of place. You are much too thin, Gwendolin. The bones in your neck are showing. Your arms- too skinny. You must eat more. No one can gain weight by eating ice, and the thumb sucking is just not right.

Then there are your breasts and your-behind-“

“The things you say,” she laughed. Well then, have you been paying attention to these things? What should I do about them?”

“Naturally,” he stressed. “You need to take up swimming. It would be perfect.”

“Maybe you are right,” she gave in. “What else?”

He began, hesitated, “I can’t say enough about putting on some weight. Your breasts, you know they should be a good handful, not yours, mine, perhaps just a bit larger. And your behind, just a little more like this-“

He moved both arms in the air describing a curve.

She took it all in very seriously. “You might just be right,” she concluded. “I will think about it. Andrea is certainly much fuller.”

She put the mirror down and picked up the small photo again.

“You see,” he said triumphantly. “Take her as your example!”

Then he continued. “So, I spoke with your father eye to eye and he is in complete agreement. To him it’s right, proper, even better.”

She didn’t look up from the photo.

“What’s alright with him?” She asked inattentively.

“If we got married!” He cried. “We have his blessing. Will you marry me? Consider and make your decision. Please decide- please say so, dearest Gwendolin. I want it very much and your father wants it even more. It would make him very happy if you would. He even said that, in words. Do this for him. He really deserves it, and he is the only father you have!”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I haven’t thought about that. I’ve always believed that I had a dozen.”

Tex furrowed his brow.

“You always make fun of me,” he cried indignantly. “You know very well what I mean. Please say ‘Yes’!”

“Don’t you think I should put on some more weight first?” She evaded.

“No,” he decided. “That is not important at all. I was only teasing you.”

“Yes, and then you want me to take you seriously? You know Tex, I just couldn’t endure it.”

“Dear Lord Jesus,” he cried. “Get past this ticklish stuff! Let me touch you a little just once. You should see how quickly you will get used to it!”

“What do you mean, Texie?” She answered. “You don’t like that I eat ice and say ‘Alas’ all the time.”

He cried very desperately, “It doesn’t matter to me if day and night all you do is sigh ‘Alas’, eat ice cubes and suck your thumb! Say ‘Yes’ Gwendolin. You have told me yourself that of all the fellows, I am your favorite.”

She nodded, “That you are Texie, really, that you are. Especially because you are so dumb, that’s why I like you. And you have no idea how terribly silly you can be. I will promise you this. If I ever marry a man, his name will be Tex Durham.”

“Good,” he cried. “Good! Now just tell me when-“

“Never, Tex!” She interrupted him firmly. “I’ve had enough of all this dumb foolishness! You are never to speak of this to me again unless I give you permission. Do you hear me, never again, not a word? I hope we are very clear about this and that you understand me correctly.”

He didn’t understand anything. He timidly lowered his head and whispered, “Yes, whatever you want Gwendolin.”

She touched his hands lightly, almost tenderly. “It’s alright, my boy. Now you can go.”

He obeyed instantly and stood up to go.

“Wait a minute, Tex,” she hesitated. “You can make a phone call for me. Dial —“ She considered, then continued. “Dial SPRING 6688. Ask for Miss Woyland. Tell her-tell her that you have seen her picture and find her very attractive-“

“But I don’t find her attractive at all-“ he turned back toward her.

“Do what I say,” she cried.

He obeyed, picked up the receiver and dialed the number. A man’s voice answered him, he asked for Miss Woyland.

“What?” He cried. “You say she is not there? Is gone?”

Gwinnie flew up, ripped the receiver out of his hand, “This is Gwinnie Briscoe,” she cried into it very much agitated.

“Andrea-Miss Woyland is gone? When? Where did she go? Oh, thank you very much,” she whispered, then, “The Plaza, thank you very much, thak you!”

She let the receiver fall, sank back into the pillows. The burning pain attacked her belly again and she doubled up in agony.

Durham fished the last piece of ice out of the bowl and pushed it into her mouth. She slowly relaxed.

“Are you better?” He asked.

She nodded, looked around the room searching for something.

“Where are your flowers?” She demanded. “Bring them here!”

He got them and held them in front of her.

She didn’t take them. “Orchids,” she breathed them. “I don’t like them. Maybe Andrea will like them?”

She raised her voice, continued, “You must go to the Plaza and deliver these flowers to Miss Woyland.”

“But Gwendolin,” he attempted. “I brought these for you-“

She shook her head.

“Oh, Tex, Tex!” She cried in exasperation. “Must you always argue? Can’t you ever just do what I tell you?”

He nodded, then turned to go. As he was leaving the door she called after him, “Let the nurse know there is no more ice, ‘Alas’.”

She lay still on the bed, like a sweet thing of painted ivory. Slowly her left hand crept off the covers; she lightly put her thumb between her red lips.

Tex Durham had nothing to laugh about that afternoon at Central Trust. He was not allowed one minute of peace. It was five o-clock before Briscoe released him.

It was completely clear what he had to do. He certainly didn’t understand Briscoe’s motive; there had been no time to think about it. But he understood very well that there would be no problem with her father. He bought a large bouquet of orchids and drove down Park Avenue to Gwinnie’s house.

Jerry, the housemaster, saw him coming and started a fight with the nurse so she wouldn’t know he was there and try to stop him from going into her room. But Tex Durham’s courage had defeated worse enemies today. Soon he was standing in front of Gwinnie’s bed radiantly smiling.

“Hi Tex,” she cried in greeting. “It’s good that you could come! And you brought flowers too. Lay them there on the table.”

He thought she meant to lay his orchids on the nightstand, but she quickly corrected him.

“Can’t you see there is no room there? Put them in the back there.”

He obeyed, went through the large room and came back. He stood in front of her, looking at her and savoring this moment to the fullest.

Pageboy locks curled around her head and fanned out sharply on the pillows. He saw her naked neck and arms, her fine and delicate collarbones. Her face looked like it had been carved out of ivory with blooming red cheeks and lips.

The thumb of her left hand must have had something sweet on it, it was stuck in her mouth and she was sucking and nursing enthusiastically on it.

“You don’t look sick, Gwendolin,” he said admiringly. “Completely healthy, and your color-“

“You are an idiot, Texie,” she laughed. “Give me the lipstick.”

He took the lipstick from the nightstand, held it tightly.

“First take your thumb out of your mouth,” he demanded. “You know I can’t stand that. You’re not a baby anymore!”

She obeyed. There was a red ring around her thumb. She wiped it carelessly on the pillow, took the lipstick and put a bit more on to make her look healthier. Then her body spasmed, she pressed both hands against her stomach, turned this way and that groaning out loud.

He was frightened. “Are you in pain? He asked.

She came back at him, “Don’t ask dumb questions. Naturally I am in pain-here! In my stomach, my throat and in my mouth too. Bring the bowl with the ice, Tex, it’s back there on the vanity.”

He took her hand, which she quickly pulled away.

“How often have I told you not to touch me! Get the ice.”

Durham sighed, “How can a person’s hands be so ticklish! I will certainly not bring you any ice. Gwendolin, your entire illness comes from eating too much ice and drinking too much ice water. No wonder you have a belly ache!”

She pursed her lips, whistled softly, then said, “All the same, bring me the ice that I asked for.”

He went there and got the dish.

“Put a piece in my mouth,” she commanded. “And when it’s gone put in another and another, do you hear me? Just so you know, it is very good for me. Dr. Nisbett specifically prescribed it! It burns everywhere inside and the ice is cool.”

He would have sat on the chair but it was covered with clothes.

“Sit on the bed,” she said. “Would you like a piece of ice?”

“No,” he said. “But you could get me a cup of tea and a few butter bread. I haven’t had anything to eat today.”

She rang and ordered tea for him. Meanwhile, she gave him no minute of peace, always had a new command. He had to turn the heat off because it was to hot for her, right after that- another-must get her cigarettes, then chocolates. He didn’t know what to do with the bowl of ice so he carried it around with him. He was glad when the nurse finally rolled the tea table in. He could set the dish down on it for a bit.

He looked mournfully at the thin sandwiches with a little lettuce and mayonnaise on them. He turned to the nurse.

“Would you ask the butler to bring me some sandwiches?”

“He should bring tongue, ham, crab and chicken salad,” commanded Gwinnie. “He should bring everything he has. You see, Tex, I won’t let you go hungry like my father.”

“Don’t say anything against your father,” he answered chewing. “He has a very good heart.”

She nodded, then said thoughtfully. “I do believe he must have, otherwise he would have gotten rid of you a long time ago.”

The tall youth took the bread out of his mouth.

“Why would he fire me, Gwendolin?”

She laughed, “Because you are so terribly silly, Texie, that’s why!”

He laughed with her, “Then perhaps he doesn’t know yet. But you are right, Gwendolin, I would like to do something serious…“

He interrupted himself. Jerry brought in a large tray that was piled high and set it in front of him.

“Eat, Texie, eat,” Gwinnie reminded him.

“Don’t you want any?” He asked.

“No,” she said. “It doesn’t go well-inside! Give me another piece of ice instead.”

Tex obeyed, pushed some ice into her mouth.

“Gwendolin,” he said. “What’s with this dreadful ‘alas’ that you keep saying?”

“Ah,” she said. “You find it dreadful? Believe me Tex, it is very noble and classical. The heroines say it in all the classical pieces of French literature. Furthermore, I can do it so well. Would you like to see?”

She shut her eyelids, opened them slowly, pushed out a long sigh, pursed her lips, pulled herself together, inhaled deeply, and breathed out a languishing “A-las!”

“Well, Texie?” She asked.

She was quite good. Tex Durham had to give her that.

He ate quietly thinking things over. Yes, it was really the best to speak with her now. Free-open-straight from the heart. Then he noticed how quiet she was. He looked at her and saw that she was holding a small photo in her hand and staring at it.

“Who is that?” He asked.

She startled, then held the photo out to him. “Do you know her?”

“Oh, a woman,” he said, completely relieved. “I was afraid for a moment that it might have been Ralph Webster or one of the other idiots that always flocks around you. Only a girl friend-you can have dozens of them around you!”

“Do you know her?” Gwinnie asked again.

He took a closer look at the photo. Her? He considered.

“I think I saw her once with you at Carnegie Hall at one of those ridiculous concerts, and weren’t you riding with her at Central Park another time? By the way, she is a beautiful woman, a very pretty woman,” he finished pointedly.

“Well, what do you think?” Gwinnie asked. Then in a dreamy voice, “She is beautiful, so very beautiful. Her name is Andrea!”

Her glance lovingly kissed the photo that her narrow hand so carefully and lovingly held like a rare jewel.

Her hair is brown, she thought, but it glows, has a red shimmer when the light falls on it. It’s very long. What woman in New York or in the entire world wears long hair anymore? She does, Andrea Woyland does, pinned up in plaits. When she lets it down, it covers her like a coat.

Oh, Gwinnie shivered as she thought about it. Her eyes are gray, large and gray and glistening. They are so deep you can look into them and look into them and get lost forever. Her features are regular, lips strongly curved.

Gwinnie closed her eyes so she could see all the details more clearly, cheeks, ears, eyebrows, eyelashes, brow and chin. Everything so well formed, so beautiful, as if they were fashioned by a great artist. The entire effect was a proud symmetry with no missing parts. Her slender neck, how graceful it was from the start at the nape of her head down to her back. What shoulders, what arms, oh, and her breasts-