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does your father do?”
    “My father is a tailor and my mother is a dressmaker.”
    “Ah!” She smiled. “That’s why you were staring. . . .” She looked at Marta’s shirtwaist and black skirt. “Did you make what you’re wearing?”
    Wondering at the woman’s change in manner, Marta dipped just to be cautious. “Yes, Countess.”
    The countess’s mouth curved with an odd, pleased smile. “Wonderful. You can make the uniforms.”
    Marta stiffened. “Will I have spare time?”
    “Most of your evenings will be free.”
    Her evenings might be free, but she wasn’t. “If you have the materials, we can discuss wages.”
    The countess’s dark eyes widened in surprise. “What would you demand?”
    Marta made a swift mental calculation and named an elevated sum for the uniforms.
    “That’s outrageous!” The countess named a lower price.
    Marta raised it. “And if I am expected to provide the materials, I will require the funds for that in advance, and the rest paid before I hand over the uniforms.”
    “You’ve been cheated, haven’t you?”
    “I haven’t, but my father and mother have.”
    “Is that any reason not to trust me?”
    “This is business, Countess.”
    The countess’s eyes lit up with amusement. After several rounds, she agreed on a price slightly above what Marta had decided was fair. When everything had been settled between them, the countess laughed. “Fräulein Schneider, you are not like any girl we’ve ever had before.” She shook her head, eyes sparkling. “I doubt you will ever be a proper servant.”
    Marta wrote to Rosie and received a swift answer.
    What do you mean you doubt the Countess Saintonge is a countess?
    Letters flew back and forth with the speed of the trains.
    The countess sounds German one day and French the next. I heard C and C speaking English in the parlor yesterday, though they shut up fast enough when they saw me in the doorway. Actors, perhaps? Frau Yoder says it is impolite to ask. The pair of them could even be Swiss! I intend to take Mama’s good advice and learn all I can. . . .
    Perhaps they are just very good at languages and have absorbed the proper accents. . . .
    Did I forget to tell you C and C have parties every Friday and often have overnight guests on the weekend? C and C say everything is planned in order to train us. If that is true, then I am a cheesemaker’s daughter. I have said nothing of my suspicions in my letters home, but I will tell you. This house is large enough to need eight full-time maids to keep it clean and neat! C and C have taught us how to wash windows, floors, and chandeliers. Frau Yoder has taught us how to wax and polish banisters and floorboards. We dust figurines, beat dust from the drapes, clean rugs. We change beds. This place turns into a hotel from Friday night through Sunday afternoon. How can I not admire such audacity? C and C found a way to make servant girls pay for the privilege of maintaining their mansion!
    Are you writing all this in your journal?
    I’m saving the journal for better things.
    She had filled only one page, with recipes of the Beckers’ best-selling bakery goods.

    Marta never worked Sundays. She walked down the hill and across the bridge, into the old city to attend services at the Berner Münster , the most famous gothic cathedral in Switzerland. She loved to linger at the portal, studying the carved and painted figures. Green devils with red maws fell into hell while white and gilded angels flew to heaven. After church, Marta walked the Marktgasse , its arcades lined with shops bustling with customers. She bought chocolate and a pastry and sat near the Samson Fountain, thinking of Mama and Elise. She went to see the Bundeshaus and the Rathaus . She bought carrots and fed the brown bears at the Bärengraben , along with a dozen other visitors to Bern who had come to see the city’s mascots. She liked to buy a cup of chocolate and stand beneath the western gate and clock