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woman. “My mother is a dressmaker and my father is a tailor.”
    Frau Yoder leaned closer and looked at the embroidery. “Beautiful work.” She smiled at Marta. “I’m surprised your parents sent you here. Come along.” Frau Yoder turned away again. “I want to show you the rest of the house. If you’re hungry, there is cabbage soup and bread in the kitchen. The count and countess are out for the evening. You’ll meet them tomorrow morning at ten in the upstairs classroom. However, I expect you there by eight for instructions.”
    Marta’s curiosity grew even more with her first sight of Countess Saintonge standing in the bare-floor hallway outside the classroom door. She was very young to be a headmistress of anything, and she wore less-than-modest clothing. Her brows slanted over a pair of sly, dark eyes. She opened her mouth in a silent laugh, showing small, straight white teeth. She whispered something behind her hand and a man appeared. He had gray hair, pale eyes, and a thin, angular face. He looked old enough to be the lady’s father! When he leaned close, Marta thought he meant to kiss Countess Saintonge right there in the hallway. He said something in a low voice and disappeared. The countess looked annoyed, but lifting her head, she entered the room with an air of hauteur. “Good morning, students.”
    Everyone shot to their feet and curtsied as they had been instructed to do.
    “Countess.” Frau Yoder gave a graceful curtsy. Each girl curtsied again as her name was mentioned.
    The countess clasped her hands delicately at her waist and began to talk about the fine reputation of the Haushaltungsschule Bern and the glowing reports she and the count had received from satisfied employers. “We select only the best.” Marta wondered at that, having spent the night with the others, most of whom had less schooling than she. We are the best?
    “Those who make it through the first three months will be fitted for one of our uniforms.” When the countess raised one hand, Frau Yoder made a slow turn, showing off the ankle-length black wool skirt, white high-collared shirtwaist with long sleeves and cuffs, full-length white apron with HB embroidered on the right pocket, and white lace-trimmed cap. “Only those who graduate receive the honor of wearing our uniform.”
    As the countess went on talking, Marta studied the translucent linen day dress with its tiny pin tucks, lace insertions, white embroidered flowers and leaves, and swirls of passementerie . She knew the hours and cost to make such a dress.
    “Fräulein Schneider, stand.”
    Marta rose, wondering why the countess had singled her out from among the others.
    “I expect you to pay attention when I speak.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Yes, Countess . And you will curtsy when you rise next time, and curtsy again before speaking.”
    Marta felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks. One hundred and fifty francs to learn how to be treated like a slave! One hundred and fifty francs Papa would expect to be repaid whether she completed the course or not. Clenching her teeth, Marta curtsied. “Yes, Countess.” She curtsied again.
    Countess Saintonge’s dark eyes surveyed her coolly. “Did you hear anything I said, or must I repeat it all?”
    Marta dipped again. “Yes, Countess. I heard.” She began to tell her word for word until the countess lifted one of those delicate hands to stop the flow. The countess gave a slight nod for her to sit. Marta remained standing. The countess inclined her head lower this time. Marta stared back at her. The countess’s cheeks flushed pink. “Why are you still standing, Fräulein Schneider?”
    Marta dipped more slowly this time and a few inches lower. “I awaited your command, Countess Saintonge.” She heard the nervous shifting of bodies around her. With another curtsy, Marta took her seat.
    When class ended, Countess Saintonge told her to remain behind. “Marta Schneider from Steffisburg, is that correct? What