“But you can’t go prescribing how the guests are supposed to spend their time. Most of them only have their own amusement in mind,” Mr. Sonnenschein added.
Flora was dead tired. The long journey and the discussion at the dinner table had taken their toll. But when Sabine asked her if she felt like going for a walk that evening once she was done cleaning up in the kitchen, Flora spontaneously said she would. As long as it was light out, the maid was free to go out as she pleased, but she would be in trouble if she came back after nightfall. On that point, Sabine explained as they strolled along Stephanienstrasse, Mrs. Sonnenschein was unwavering. At that time of day, most of the businesses and workshops were closed, but the woman who ran The Gilded Rose, where Flora had stayed with her mother in winter, waved cheerfully to them as they passed.
Sabine had a tale to tell about every house and almost every inhabitant, and Flora’s head was soon buzzing.
“This is Karl-Ottfried Schierstiefel’s tailor’s shop. He’s an old crony of the master and drops in almost every day. You should hear them—they go on like old washerwomen! And . . .” Sabine seemed to be keeping a lookout for something.
“Is something wrong?” Flora asked.
The maid shook her head rapidly, but then changed her mind. She beckoned Flora closer. “Old Schierstiefel, well, there’s this fellow Moritz who works with him . . .”
“Ah-ha, now you look like my friend Suse when she raves on about her Rolf.”
“You’re the one saying I’ve got a heartthrob, not me!” Sabine said, her face suddenly crimson. “Schierstiefel is an old miser. He never has any scraps of cloth left over. But there’s also a woman with a tailor’s shop a bit farther away, and you can often pick up a bit of leftover fabric from her. Enough for a hair band or two, certainly.”
They strolled on.
“This is Grün’s pharmacy. Gretel Grün is a friend of madam’s and she is always very nice to me. Mmm, something smells good, doesn’t it?”
The smell of sauerkraut and mashed potatoes wafted from the windows of restaurants.
Flora’s stomach replied for her with a loud growl.
“Hungry?” Sabine asked with a frown.
Flora just nodded.
“Then I know just the thing!” With a loud laugh, Sabine pulled Flora onward. “This is Walbusch’s general store. Mrs. Walbusch is a friend of madam’s, and whenever she comes to visit the Sonnenscheins she always has to have a cup of coffee served instantly. And do the fine ladies care if I happen to be busy with the washing or cooking? Oh no! If you ask me, she’s a crook. I think she charges madam far too much, but I won’t let her do that to me!”
“Then why don’t you just do the shopping at Walbusch’s?”
“Because madam won’t let anyone stop her from choosing her buttons and sewing thread herself. She spends hours and hours on something like that and comes home exhausted, because everything is, oh, such a strain . . .” Sabine theatrically wiped imaginary sweat from her forehead. The next moment, she grabbed Flora by the sleeve. “Here I am babbling away, and we hardly even know each other. You don’t breathe a word of any of this to madam or the master, understood?”
“Do you think I’m some sort of tattler?” Flora said, affronted, but Sabine merely shrugged.
They had gone quite a way along the street when Sabine turned into a narrow side alley and from there into a courtyard.
“My little Württemberger girl!” she heard the moment they walked through the courtyard gate.
In front of Flora stood a giant of a man wearing a bloodstained apron, and she recoiled reflexively. Along the side of the courtyard were several slaughtered pigs, or rather half pigs, hung on large hooks from a balcony. Beneath one of the half pigs stood a large basin into which blood dripped. What in the world did Sabine want here? The huge man had already embraced Sabine and planted a kiss on her cheek. And the way he looked at her . . .
“Mr. Semmel—may I introduce Flora? She comes from Württemberg, too, and she’ll be helping in the flower shop starting tomorrow.”
For better or worse, Flora took the proffered blood-smeared hand. He was from the Swabian Mountains, he explained, but love had brought him to Baden-Baden many years earlier. The love, however, had long since flown, and now he was waiting for another, he added, looking at Sabine as he spoke. She stubbornly said nothing.
“Well? Can I interest two young women from Württemberg in a bowl of Metzelsuppe?” Mr. Semmel nodded toward the butcher’s shop.
Flora and Sabine exchanged a glance. “You bet!” they said, at the same time.
“You really know this town backward and forward, don’t you?” said Flora as they went on their way again after a rich bowl of the broth left over from making sausages. For the first time that day, her stomach felt warm and full.
“And side to side.” Sabine laughed. “One has to know where one is, right? We won’t go to bed hungry tonight.”
“Um . . . do you think we could still take a look at the Trinkhalle where Friedrich works?” Flora asked.
Sabine frowned. “Do we have to? I can tell you right now that it’s too late to get in, and even if it was open, the water tastes just awful! I tried it once—just once. It doesn’t cost anything, after all. But who would pay for stuff like that? No one! Let’s go for a walk along by the hotels, where all the high-and-mighty spa guests stay.”
Sabine suggested getting there via the Promenade so that they could look in the windows of all the lovely shops, and Flora readily agreed.
“I know this place,” Flora said when they found themselves in front of Maison Kuttner. “I was even in there with my mother.” With a deep crease between her eyes, she told Sabine about their reception in the flower shop.
“They pinch all the good jobs and customers from the master. But it’s no surprise. They’re in the middle of everything here, and the Sonnenscheins are in the middle of nowhere.
Flora shook her head. “Now you’re really exaggerating. You can get to the Sonnenscheins’ shop in a few minutes at a brisk walk. It’s only a few streets.”
“But for the spa guests, even a few streets is too far. Personally, I wouldn’t set foot inside that place,” said Sabine as she tried to move Flora along. “The likes of us aren’t good enough for them.”
Flora stopped abruptly and planted her hands on her hips. Angrily, she asked, “Does our money stink? Are we worth any less than the fine ladies and gentlemen here?” She swept her hands out wide, including the other people out walking with her gesture.
Sabine, somewhat embarrassed at the scene Flora was making, tried again to pull Flora on. “We’re servants, no more. Other laws apply for us. That’s how it’s always been.”
Flora bit down on her lip. That was not how she saw things at all. What had her father always told her? “Child, some of our customers like to treat traveling traders like the dirt under their feet. But as a G?nningen seed woman, you’re the equal of anyone on this earth. If we’ve got something to say, we don’t let anyone tell us to be quiet.”
Dusk was slowly beginning to settle by the time they reached the shores of the Oos. Flora looked at the hotels with fascination. They stood side by side along the river like pearls on a string. And on their terraces, in the dining halls, in the fire-lit lounges and salons, everywhere she looked, she saw glittering chandeliers and flickering candles, like countless fireflies on a summer night.
“We should be getting back. We really have to be home again before dark,” said Sabine.