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would try to kill your friend over it?”
    Willie Zehetner looked like he’d been getting the worst of things, but he wasn’t ready to surrender. “Otto says Napoleon is coming to kill us all!”
    “Ah, Bonaparte.” Leopold was the only child of Augustin Singer, the wealthiest Lutheran in the valley. Leopold had been to Paris and Vienna, and his family owned a ship that sailed all over the world. He would know about Napoleon. “That is serious.” He put his arms around the boys’ shoulders. With the children, Marta drew closer. “Some say he is a brute to be greatly feared. Others say he is a genius, a liberator of the common man.”
    “What do you say?” asked Willie.
    “When he came as close as Klagenfurt, I was afraid, I won’t deny it. But then he signed the peace treaty. Still, wherever Napoleon may be, no good comes from us fighting with each other. Now why don’t you two shake hands?”
    Relieved, the boys bowed to each other with mock ceremony.
    Marta clapped her hands at the delightful picture, and Leopold looked at her. He didn’t stare at her eyes or lips or figure. He just smiled, friendly, including her in the fun. She had known him all her life and liked him well enough, but in that moment a window opened inside her. Some little god’s arrow flew in and pierced her heart with desire.
    She imagined this morning’s kiss with a different hero.
    “The lace!” Gabby pulled her back on course, chatting on about Wolfram. “I hope my father won’t make us wait until—and what is this about?” A rash of color had erupted over Marta’s throat and up to her ears. Gabby looked back at Leopold Singer and again to Marta. “I think my friend is in love!”
    “Be quiet.”
    “Your mother won’t like it. Everyone knows she wants Oktav Haas for her son-in-law.”
    “Yes,” Marta said without enthusiasm. “Everyone knows it.”
    That evening from her bedroom window, Marta watched the Haases arrive. Oktav looked up, and she quickly backed away. This morning he must have known he would be here tonight. What Gabby said was true. Marta had been vaguely disappointed in her mother’s choice but never thought to rebel against it. Now, everything had changed.
    She was caught up in a kind of amazement, taken out of time and place by Oktav’s kiss and Leopold’s kind look. She had stumbled through a magical passage into a domain of Woman, with a new awareness of her power and her vulnerability. The knowledge was exciting and felt good and right and necessary to her existence.
    And she understood one thing clearly. She could not bear for Oktav Haas to have her as a husband has a wife.
    “Good, you’re dressed,” Mutti bustled in. “Go down and check the flowers. I want them on the server. Lena always puts them on the table and they block everyone’s view. And be sweet to Oktav tonight, Marta. He’s such a fine young man.”
    Marta turned to go, but Mutti stopped her and ran a finger over Marta’s face from cheek to chin. “What is that look? Do you think you can do better? Beauty makes you proud, but you’re still no more than a draper’s daughter. You should be grateful for Oktav’s interest.”
    The daffodils were indeed in the middle of the table, a riot of yellow and white and orange. Marta lifted the offending blooms, her father’s favorites.
    “Hello again.” Oktav appeared in the doorway, filling it with his confidence as much as his broad frame. “Let me carry those.” He took the vase in a show of gallantry then brushed against her breast with his forearm as he leaned near. “You will be mine, you know. Our mothers both want it. What can we do?”
    As if it just occurred to him to make a show of wooing her, he put down the flowers and added a softer, “As do I, very much.” She backed away, but he grabbed her hands and pulled her close. “Have you no heart?” His arrogance evaporated; he seemed truly anguished. “Have you no feeling for what a man goes through, looking at