My best friends at that time were Monique Delorme, who shared my room, and an English girl Lydia Markham and her room-mate Frieda Schmidt. The four of us were always together. We talked constantly and used to make excursions into the town together. Sometimes we would walk and if the wagonette was going into town, a few of us would go in that. We took walks in the woods, which was allowed in parties of six-or at least four. There was a certain amount of freedom and we did not feel in the least restricted.

Lydia said that being at Schaffenbrucken was like being in a railway station waiting for the train that would carry you to a place where you would be a properly grown-up person. I knew what she meant. This was merely a stopping place in our lives- a stepping stone to some other place.

We talked about ourselves. Monique was the daughter of a noble house and would be whisked almost immediately into a suitable marriage. Frieda's father had made his fortune out of pottery and was a businessman of many interests: Lydia belonged to a banking family. I was a little older and as I should be leaving at Christmas felt very much the senior.

We noticed Elsa almost as soon as she joined the establishment. She was a small pretty girl with fair curly hair and blue eyes; she was vivacious and had a certain elfin look. She was unlike any of the other servants and she was engaged on short notice because one of the maids had eloped with a man from the town and Madame de Guérin must have thought she would give Elsa a trial until the end of the term.

I was sure that if Madame de Guérin had really known Elsa she would not have allowed her to stay even until the end of the term. She was not at all respectful and did not seem to be in the least in awe of Schaffenbrucken or anyone in it. She had an air of camaraderie which implied that she was one of us. Some of the girls resented it: my own intimate quartette was rather amused by it; perhaps that was why she was always turning up in our rooms.

She would come in sometimes when the four of us were together and somehow sidle herself into the conversation.

She liked to hear about our homes and asked a good many questions. "Oh, I'd like to go to England," she said. "Or France ... or Germany ..." She would lure us to talk and she looked so pleased to hear about our backgrounds that we couldn't help going along with her.

She herself had come down in the world, she said. She was not really a serving maid. Oh no! She had thought she was set for a comfortable future. Her father had been, well ... not exactly rich, but not wanting anything. She was to have been launched onto society. "Not like you young ladies, of course, but in a more modest way. Then my father died. Hey Presto!" She waved her arms and raised her eyes to the ceiling. "That was the end of little Elsa's glory. No money. Elsa on her own. There was nothing for me to do but work. And what could I do? What had I been trained for?"

"Not as a housemaid," said Monique with good French logic.

At which we all laughed, including Elsa.

We couldn't help liking her and we used to encourage her to come and talk to us. She was amusing and very knowledgeable about the legends of the German forests where she said she had spent her early childhood before her father brought her to England, where she had lived for a while before coming to Switzerland.

"I like to think of all those trolls hiding underground, she said. Used to make my flesh creep. There were nice stories too about knights in armour coming along and carrying of maidens to Valhalla... or somewhere."

"That was where they went when they died," I reminded her.

"Well, to some nice place where there was feasting and banquets."

She took to joining us most afternoons.

"What would Madame de Guérin say if she knew?" asked Lydia.

"We'd probably be expelled," added Monique. "What luck for all those on the waiting list. Four at one go."

Elsa would sit on the edge of a chair laughing at us.

"Tell me about your father's château," she would say to Monique.

And Monique told her about the formality of her home and how she was more or less betrothed to Henri de la Creseuse, who owned the estate adjoining her father's.

Then Frieda told of her stern father who would certainly fend a baron at least for her to marry. Lydia spoke of her two brothers who would be bankers like her father.

"Tell me about Cordelia," said Elsa.

"Cordelia is the luckiest of the lot," cried Lydia. "She has the most wonderful aunt who lets her do just what she likes. I love to hear about Aunt Patty. I am sure she'll never try to make Cordelia marry some baron or old man because he has a title and money. Cordelia will marry just whom she pleases."

"And she'll be rich in her own right. She'll have that lovely old manor house. It'll all be yours one day, Cordelia, and you won't have to marry someone to get it."

"I shan't want it because it means Aunt Patty would have to die first."

"But it will all be yours one day. You'll be rich and independent."

Elsa wanted to know about Grantley Manor and I gave a glowing description. I wondered if I exaggerated a little, stressing the splendours of Grantley. I certainly did not in describing the eccentric charm of Aunt Patty. No one could really do her justice. But how happy I was talking of her and how the others envied me, coming as they did from sterner and more conventional homes.

"I reckon," said Elsa one day, "you'll all be married very soon."

"Heaven forbid," said Lydia. "I want to enjoy myself first."

"Have you ever been to Pilcher's Peak?" asked Elsa.

"I've heard of it," said Frieda.

"It's only two miles from here."

"Is it worth seeing?" I asked.

"Oh yes. It's in the forest; a strange rock. There's a story about it. I always liked those stories."

"What story?"

"If you go there on certain times you can see your future lover ... or husband."

We laughed.

Monique said: "I've no particular desire to see Henri de la Creseuse just now. Time enough when I leave."

"Ah," said Elsa, "but it may be the fates have decided he is not meant for you."

"And the man who is will appear at this place? What is this Pilcher's Peak?"

"I'll tell you the story. Years and years ago they used to take lovers caught in adultery to Pilcher's Peak, make them climb to the top and then throw them down. They always took them there on the night of the full moon. So many died that their blood made the ground fertile and the trees grew round the Peak and made the forest."

"And this is the place we ought to visit?"

"Cordelia is in her last term. She won't have many opportunities, and she ought to see it while she can. Tomorrow night it will be full moon and it's the Hunter's Moon too. That's a good time."

"Hunter's Moon?" echoed Monique.

"The one that follows the Harvest Moon. It is one of the best and it is the time of the hunting season. It comes in October."

"Is it really October?" asked Frieda. "It seems so warm."

"It was cold last night," said Lydia, shivering in memory.

"In the day it is lovely," I said. "We ought to make the most of it. It's odd to think I shall not be coming back."

"Shall you mind?" asked Monique.

"I shall miss you all."

"And you will be with that wonderful aunt," said Frieda enviously.

"And you'll be rich," said Elsa, "and independent too, for you will own that school and the wonderful old manor house."

"No, no. Not for years. I'd have it when Aunt Patty dies and I'd never want that."

Elsa nodded. "Well," she said, "if you don't want to go to Pilcher's Peak I'll tell some of the others."

"Why don't we go?" said Lydia. "Is it tomorrow ... the full moon?"

"We could take the wagonette."

"We could say we wanted to see some of the wild flowers in the forest."

"Do you think we should be permitted? Wild flowers are scarcely a topic for the drawing rooms of the élite. And what wild flowers are there at this Lime of the year?"

"We could think of something else," said Lydia.

Nobody could, however, and the harder we thought the more enticing a trip to Pilcher's Peak became.

"I know," said Elsa at length, "you are going into the town to select a pair of gloves for Cordelia's aunt. She was so impressed by those Cordelia came home with and of course they can't make such gloves ... so chic, so right ... anywhere but in Switzerland. That will seem very plausible to Madame. Then the wagonette instead of going into the town turns off and goes into the forest. It is only two miles. You could ask for extended Lime as you wish to call into the pâtisserie for a cup of coffee and one of those cream gateaux which can only be found in Switzerland. I am sure permission would be granted, and that will give you time to go to the forest and sit under the lovers' oak tree."

"What perfidy!" I cried. "What if Madame de Guérin knew that you were corrupting us? You'd be turned out to wander in the snowy mountains."

Elsa put the palms of her hands together as though in prayer. "I beg you do not betray me. It is only a joke. I wish to put a Little romance into your lives."

I laughed with the others. "Well, why shouldn't we go? Tell us what we do, Elsa?"

"You sit under the oak. You can't fail to see it. It's there below the Peak. You just sit there and talk together ... just naturally, you know. Then if you are lucky, your future husband will appear."

"One between four of us!" cried Monique.

"Perhaps more ... who can say? But if one comes that is enough to show you there is something in our legend, eh?"

"It's ridiculous," said Frieda.

"It will be somewhere to go," added Monique. "Our last little outing before winter comes," said Lydia.

"Who knows? It may start tomorrow."

"Then too Tate for Cordelia," Lydia reminded us. "Oh, Cordelia, do persuade Aunt Patty to let you stay another year."

"Two is really enough to put the polish on. I must be positively gleaming already."

We laughed awhile and we decided that on the following afternoon we would go to Pilcher's Peak.


It was a clear afternoon when we set out. The sun made it as warm as spring and we were in high spirits as the wagonette turned off from the road to the town and took us up to the forest. The air was clear and crisp and the snow sparkled on the distant mountain-tops. I could smell the pungency of the pines which made up most of the forest, but there were among the evergreens some oaks, and it was one of these which we had to look for.

We asked the driver about Pilcher's Peak and he told us we couldn't miss it. He'd show us when we turned the bend. We would see it then rising high above the ravine.

The scenery was superb. In the distance we saw mountain slopes, some of them wooded near the valleys, the vegetation growing more sparse further up.

"I wonder which of us will see him?" whispered Lydia.

"None," responded Frieda.

Monique laughed. "It won't be me because I am already bespoke."

We all laughed.

"I think Elsa makes up half the things she says," I added.

"Do you believe that about her coming down in the world?"

"I don't know," I said thoughtfully. "There is something about Elsa. She's different. It could be true. On the other hand she might have made it up."

"Like the visions of Pilcher's Peak," said Frieda. "She's going to laugh at us when we get back."

The sound of horses' hooves was soothing as we rocked happily to and fro. I should miss these outings when I left. But it would be wonderful of course to be home with Aunt Patty.

"There's the Peak," said the wagoner, pointing with his whig.

We all looked. It was impressive from this spot. It looked like a wrinkled old face ... brown, creased and malevolent.

"I wonder if it's meant to be Pilcher?" said Monique. "And who was Pilcher anyway?"

"We'll have to ask Elsa," I said. "She seems to be a mine of information on such matters."

We were in the forest now. The wagon drew up and our driver said: "I'll wait here. Now you young ladies take that path. It leads straight up to the base of the rock. There's a big oak tree at the bottom called Pilcher's Oak."

"That's what we want," said Monique.

"Less than half a mile." He looked at his watch. "I'll be ready to take you back say in an hour and a half. Orders is that you're not to be late."