The rattle of wheels echoed under the porch. The two “pillar men” glanced into the windows of the fast receding coach.
In Sebastian Square, in front of Baroness Geramb’s educational institute, three coaches were waiting. On one of them a liveried footman sat beside the coachman. This filled Christopher with envy. He thought that it would be a good idea to bring Florian, too, next Sunday.
“Mind you don’t forget to kiss the ladies’ hands!” said John Hubert while they crossed a murky corridor. Then a tall white-glazed door led into a sombre dark room. Crooked tallow candles lit it up from the top of the wardrobes. Their mild light showed Sztaviarsky, hopping on tiptoe to and fro, and a row of little girls in crinolines and boys in white collars. Between the wings of another door and in the adjoining room ladies and gentlemen sat on uncomfortable chairs. Through lorgnettes on long handles, they inspected each other’s children.
Christopher at once perceived Sophie Hosszu among the grown-up people. Though Gabriel had told him she would be there, it gave him a shock.
“Go and kiss hands,” whispered John Hubert. The boy leant forward with such zeal that he knocked his nose into the ivory hand of the Baroness Geramb. He also kissed the other ladies’ hands. When he came to Sophie he stared for a moment helplessly at the young girl. Sophie snatched her hand away and laughed.
“But, Sophie!” said Baroness Geramb in her expiring voice and the ringlets dangled on the side of her face. She was not pleased with her former pupil. Christopher tripped over a hooped petticoat, and in his embarrassment felt as if he wanted to cry.
In the other room, Sztaviarsky held the two tails of his alpaca evening suit high up in his hands. He was showing one of the Bajmoczy girls how to bow.
“Demoiselle Bertha, pray, pray, attention,” and then he murmured something in Polish.
There was a commotion at the door. “Mrs. Septemvir” Bajmoczy went to her daughter. Her silk dress rustled as it slid along the floor. She was tall and corpulent; her head was bent backwards and she always looked down on things.
This irritated Sztaviarsky all the more. He sucked his cheek in and looked round in search of a victim. “Demoiselle Ulwing, show us how to make a bow!”