It was an exciting year for Dorabella and me because it was our last at boarding school. We should be seventeen in the coming October and that was certainly something to set us thinking, so that we forgot about our proposed visit to Germany until at mid-term. Edward was at Caddington and one of the first things he said was that Kurt hadn’t forgotten that we had promised to visit him in the summer. Then, of course, we remembered and it seemed an excellent idea.

We said goodbye to our friends at school, and looked round the tennis courts and the assembly hall for the last time without too many regrets; after all, we had become adults and ahead of us was the prospect of going to Germany.

Robert had been invited to spend the holidays with a friend in Devon, so that disposed of him. This was a relief to my mother who had felt that it would be quite enough for Edward to look after us without having to watch over a high-spirited boy.

My parents drove us down to the coast, and in due course we embarked on the Channel steamer and arrived at the port of Ostend. Dorabella and I were in a state of excitement during the long train journey through Belgium and Germany. Edward, who had done it before, pointed out places of interest as we passed along. We wanted to miss nothing. It grew dark and we slept then, but fitfully, waking now and then to be aware of the movement of the train.

When we finally reached Munich, we were to stay a night, as the train to the small town of Regenshaven would not leave until the next day.

“Then,” the knowledgeable Edward informed us, “we have another long journey, but not, of course, like the one we have just experienced. We should get to Regenshaven before dark and there Kurt will be waiting to take us to the schloss.”

“I can’t wait to get there,” said Dorabella.

“That is something you will have to do,” Edward retorted. “So don’t say you can’t.”

“I mean, I’m just longing to be there.”

“I know,” he replied soothingly. “So are we all.”

It was exciting arriving in the great City. We were taken to the hotel where two rooms had been reserved for us—Dorabella and I sharing.

“Perhaps you would like a rest first,” suggested Edward.

We looked at him in amazement. Rest! When we had come to Munich—a town which had been but printed letters on a map until now!

“All right,” he said. “We’ll have a look round. Just a quick one…because I shall be hungry and looking for sustenance.”

The middle-aged woman at the desk was very affable. She smiled benignly on us and said in deeply accented English that she hoped we should enjoy our stay in Munich.

Edward, who spoke some German and liked to make use of it, told her that we were leaving the next day for Regenshaven.

“Ah,” she cried. “In the forest. That is good…” She pronounced it “goot.” “Wunderbar…wunderbar. You have friends there?”

“Yes, someone I knew at college.”

“That is goot…goot…this friendship. But you must see something of München…only a little, alas…but the goot things. First it is the Cathedral…the Frauenkirche…then the Peterskirche…”

We asked directions, which she gave, smiling benevolently while we thanked her.

It was certainly a fine city and very busy. There were several museums, I noticed, but there was no time to explore them. Edward said we had the afternoon and referred once more to that necessary sustenance.

Everywhere we were met with friendliness. It was fun to ask the way and receive instructions, and in high spirits we returned to the hotel for lunch.

The dining room was full and there was only one table available; this was for six and we were given that.

Hot soup was put before us and, while we were consuming it, the waiter appeared with two young men. He asked our pardon. Edward was concentrating hard to understand him and, with the help of a little miming, we discovered that the young men wanted a meal; there was no place for them, so should we mind if they shared our table? So it was amicably arranged that they should sit with us.

They were tall and blond and we prepared ourselves to enjoy their company and they ours, it seemed. They were interested when they heard we came from England.

They lived on the outskirts of Munich, which was a very big city—they added proudly, in Germany second only to Berlin.

We looked suitably impressed.

They were in the town on business. Things were different now. They had changed since the Führer came to power.

We listened attentively. There were questions I wanted to ask, but it was a little difficult because of the language problem, though they spoke some English and, with Edward’s German, we could reach some understanding.

“We like the English,” they told us.

“We have found the people here very helpful to us,” Edward said.

“But of course.”

I put in: “And we like all we have seen.”

Dorabella was a little silent. She was hurt, I thought, because they did not pay her the attention she was accustomed to receiving from young men. These two seemed to me too earnest for frivolity.

“It is good that you come here,” said one of the young men whose name we discovered was Franz. The other was Ludwig.

“It is good that you see we are now a prosperous people.”

We waited for him to go on.

“We have suffered much. After the war…there was a harsh treaty. Oh, we suffered. But no more. We shall be great again.”

“But you are,” said Dorabella, giving one of her most appealing smiles.

Both young men then regarded her with interest. “You have seen this?”

“Oh, yes,” said Dorabella.

“And you will go home and tell your people Germany is great again?”

Dorabella said: “Oh, yes.” Although I knew she had no intention of doing so and certainly no one would have been interested if she had.

“We are proud,” said Ludwig, “because it was here in Munich that our Führer made his great attempt to lead our nation.”

“What year was that?” asked Edward.

“1923,” answered Franz. “It was the Putsch in the beer cellar.”

“Beer cellar!” cried Dorabella. “Can we go to a beer cellar?”

Neither of the young men seemed to hear that. They were staring silently ahead, their faces flushed with zeal.

“It failed and he went to prison,” said Franz.

“But that time was not wasted,” added his friend. “For out of it came Mein Kampf.”

“And then when Hindenburg died he became Chancellor. And then Dictator…and everything was different,” said the other.

“Oh, good,” murmured Dorabella. “That must have been nice.” There was a touch of asperity in her voice. She was a little bored by these too earnest young men. However, there was a very friendly atmosphere at the table and the food was good.

We felt distinctly refreshed and spent a pleasant afternoon exploring the Peterskirche—one of the oldest churches I had ever seen. After that we sat outside a restaurant, drank coffee, and ate some delicious cakes. It was interesting to watch the people strolling by. Edward said we must not stay out too long. We had to think of the journey tomorrow, for we should have to rise early.

We went back to our hotel. Franz and Ludwig were no longer there. We dined and returned to our rooms where Dorabella and I talked of the day’s events until we dropped off to sleep.

We were greatly looking forward to arriving in Regenshaven.

As we stepped from the train, I felt I was in an enchanted land. We had traveled through mountainous country of pine-covered slopes with waterfalls and little rivulets which glittered in the sunshine. We had seen the occasional little village with tall brick buildings and cobbled streets, which reminded me of illustrations in Grimm’s Fairy Tales from my childhood.

Kurt was waiting to greet us which he did with such joy and made us all feel like honored guests.

“How glad I am that you have come!” he said. “Ach, but it is a long journey and so good of you to make it to see us.”

“We thought it was worth it,” replied Edward lightly. “Kurt. It is good to see you.”

“And the young ladies are here…Violetta…Dorabella.”

“We are here,” cried Dorabella. “You don’t think we should have let Edward come without us, surely?”

“They are all eager to meet you. My family…I mean,” said Kurt. “Come. We will waste no time. They are impatient. Is this the luggage?”

Kurt took our bags and we went out of the station and settled into his waiting car. Then we drove through the pine-scented air.

“It is beautiful!” I cried. “Everything I thought it would be.”

And so it was. We were soon in the forest.

“The schloss is five miles from the station,” Kurt told us.

We looked about us eagerly and soon came to a small town, with its church and old belltower, its cobbled streets, and the square in which were the post office and a few shops. The small houses had clearly stood there for hundreds of years. One almost expected the Pied Piper to appear.

The schloss was about a quarter of a mile out of the town, which I discovered was called Waldenburg. The road to it was slightly uphill. I gasped when I saw the schloss. In the afternoon light it was like another illustration from the fairytale books.

It was a castle, yes, but a miniature one. There was a circular turret at each end and it was built of pale gray stone. I thought of a princess at one of the turret windows letting down her long fair hair to enable her lover to climb up to her. I could hear Dorabella’s voice: “It’s silly. He would have pulled it all out, and think how it would hurt!” But I was more romantically minded than she was, and I thought it was an example of true love to suffer for the joy of receiving one’s lover in the turret.

I would have reminded her of this but there was no time, for standing at the door of this fascinating edifice was a group of people.

Kurt shouted in German: “We’re here,” and they all clapped their hands.

We got out of the car and were introduced to them. Edward they knew already, and greeted him with great pleasure. And Kurt presented them to us with that dignity with which I was beginning to become accustomed. There were his parents, his grandfather and grandmother, his brother Helmut and his sister Gretchen. Standing to one side were the servants—a man, two women, and a girl who, I guessed, would be much the same age as Dorabella and me.

When the first formal introductions had been made, the welcome was very warm.

We were shown to our rooms. Dorabella and I shared, which we were delighted to do. We stood at the window looking out on the forest where a faint mist was beginning to settle, giving the scene a mysterious aspect and, just for a moment, I felt a certain apprehension which made me shiver. That mist once again reminded me of the forest in the Grimm books, where evil was so often lurking.

It was gone in a moment, for Dorabella hugged me suddenly—a habit she had when excited.

“It is wonderful!” she cried. “I know it’s going to be fun. What did you think of Helmut?”

“I am afraid it is too soon for me to have made an assessment. He seemed very pleasant.”

Dorabella laughed at me. “You are such a pompous old darling, dear sister. I’m glad all that side of us went to you.”

She often said that she and I were one person, really, and the vices and virtues which fell to the lot of most people at birth had been divided between us.

However, on that occasion she did manage to disperse that mild feeling of uneasiness.

I remember our first meal in the schloss inn. I recall going down the narrow spiral staircase to the dining room where we dined with the family, apart from the guests who were staying at the inn; and we had our meal after they had had theirs.

It was a small dining room which looked out—as so many of the rooms did—on the forest. There were rugs on the wooden floor, and two stuffed heads of deer protruded from the walls on either side of the open fireplace.

We discovered that long ago—before the unification of Germany, when the country had consisted of a number of small states—the schloss had been the hunting lodge of some baron, and the animals’ heads must have been put there then. One looked somewhat ferocious, the other scornfully resentful. They seemed to intrude into the peaceful atmosphere of the room. There were pictures, too, of the Brandt family which I later learned had been painted before the disastrous years of 1914 to 1918.