If it had not been for her fork I think she would have crossed herself.
“Surely you cannot understand. He is one of the First Barons.”
More than a little unnerved, she turned and spoke to the Frau Doktor on her left.
“My omelette is empty—empty,” she protested, “and this is the third I have tried!”
I looked at the First of the Barons. He was eating salad—taking a whole lettuce leaf on his fork and absorbing it slowly, rabbit-wise—a fascinating process to watch.
Small and slight, with scanty black hair and beard and yellow-toned complexion, he invariably wore black serge clothes, a rough linen shirt, black sandals, and the largest black-rimmed spectacles that I had ever seen.
The Herr Oberlehrer, who sat opposite me, smiled benignantly.
“It must be very interesting for you, gnädige Frau, to be able to watch... of course this is a very fine house. There was a lady from the Spanish Court here in the summer; she had a liver. We often spoke together.”
I looked gratified and humble.
“Now, in England, in your ‘boarding ’ouse’, one does not find the First Class, as in Germany.”