Kurt Brandt told us that his home was in Bavaria. There was an old schloss which had been in the family for years.

“Not so big…not so grand as this house,” he said modestly. “Schloss sounds grand, but there are many such in Germany. Castles…but very small. Ours is an inn now—and has been for some years. Then there were bad times…the war…and after…it was not easy…”

I thought of my father, who had been decorated for bravery during that war, and remembered that he would have been fighting against Kurt’s father. But it was all over now.

“Tell us about the forest,” said my mother.

How glowingly he spoke of his homeland! I could see how much he loved it. We listened entranced and, seen through his eyes, the forest seemed an enchanted place. He told us how, during the autumn, the mists arose suddenly—bluish mists which shrouded the pine trees suddenly without warning so that even those who were familiar with the place could lose their way. About the necks of the cows which belonged to the few farms scattered on the wooded slopes were bells which tinkled as the cows moved, and so the sound gave their owners an idea of where they were.

He was a fascinating talker, and Edward sat back smiling because his guest was a success. It was an excellent beginning, not that the rest was disappointing.

Edward was eager to show him something of our country and, as one of his passions at the moment was his new motorcar, he insisted on driving us somewhere each day.

We went to Portsmouth so that Kurt might see Admiral Nelson’s battleship; we explored far beyond our neighborhood; then Kurt must see the New Forest, where William the Conqueror had hunted; and after that to Stonehenge, which was of an even earlier period.

We would return each day and chatter over dinner of what we had seen.

During that time we had come to know Kurt very well. We used to sit for a long time over dinner because the talk was too interesting to be cut short. If the weather was hot, we ate out of doors. We had a courtyard shut in by red brick walls with creeper climbing over them and a pear tree in one corner. It was an ideal place for an alfresco meal.

I think Kurt enjoyed that visit as much as we did. He told us a great deal about the difficulties of life in his country after the war. There had been great struggles. The inn had had to be closed for a time and it was not very long since it had been reopened.

“Visitors come now,” he said. “They did not come during the bad years immediately after the war.”

“It is the people who have no say in making wars who suffer most from the consequences of them,” commented my father.

We were solemn for a while and then were laughing again.

We made Kurt tell us more about the forest, his home, and his family.

He had a brother Helmut and a sister Gretchen. They helped his parents manage the inn.

“Helmut will have the inn in due course,” he added. “For he is my elder brother.”

“And you will be with him?” asked my mother.

“I think perhaps it may be necessary.”

No more was said on the subject. My mother probably thought it would be prying to ask too many questions.

It was the last night. Dorabella, Robert, and I would be going back to school in two days’ time. Dorabella and I were in our last year.

We were in the garden and there was that air of sadness among us as there can be when something which has been enjoyable is coming to an end.

“Alas,” Kurt said at length. “Tomorrow I must say goodbye. It has been delightful. Sir Robert and Lady Denver, how can I thank you?”

“Please don’t,” said my mother. “It has been an enormous pleasure for us to have you here. I should thank Edward for bringing you.”

“And you will come to the Böhmerwald one day?”

“Oh, yes please,” cried Dorabella.

“I’ll come,” said Robert. “The trouble is there is this beastly school.”

“There will be holidays,” Edward reminded him.

“I wish you could come back with me,” said Kurt. “This is the best time of the year.”

“I’d like to see that blue mist,” said Dorabella.

“And the cows with bells,” added Robert.

“It would be wonderful,” I added.

“Next year…you must come…all of you.”

“We shall look forward to it all through the year, shan’t we, Violetta?” said Dorabella.

Kurt looked at me and said: “She speaks for you both?”

“She usually does,” I said. “And on this occasion…certainly.”

“Then it shall be,” said Kurt. He lifted his glass. “To next year in the Böhmerwald.”

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.