The Undergraduate, Episode Five
"Shall I blow out the lamp now?"
"Yes, go ahead, Thomas. I've been thinking. I'm glad you brought Karl home. It gave me a chance to watch him with our Dora. Did you see the way he looked at her and listened to her?"
"At Dora? It seemed to me he looked at all of them. Us, too." Thomas settled into bed and took her in his arms.
"Well, yes, he noticed they were there, and talked politely with them. Heidi is prettier, I suppose, but it was Dora he kept coming back to. I wonder if some of it is because he can talk with her about what you all do together. After all, Heidi and Sabina aren't smith's daughters. Dora hasn't said much, but anyone ought to be able to see that they like each other. And you said yourself you could take him seriously as a suitor."
"When he's established in his own shop, yes. But he's mentioned that he's been saving all he can, and I've heard that machinists can almost name their own wages, there are so few of them. The Fritsches have nobody better to head their machine work, though he's still a journeyman. So he might manage it before Dora has enough of a dowry."
"So, should we encourage it?"
"Why put our thumb on the scales before we have to? While they're still getting their feet under them, they can get to know each other better, and we can watch how he behaves and understand him better, before we have to speak. We haven't known him from childhood, the way we have Matthias. I would never worry about how Matthias would treat her. I only worry whether he will succeed in this new trade."
"Matthias is why I'm asking your thoughts. I can't make Matthias out these days. I don't know whether he came again after all this time, only because of a half-promise in his own mind. Dora is upset. She doesn't know what to think."
"You think he isn't sure about her any more? Well, maybe you have better eyes for that than I do. But I think all we can do with either of them is watch and wait. Watch, especially."
"Well. Maybe so. I'm glad your cold is getting better. Sleep well." She turned on her side, and her breathing slowed.
****
Dora dreamed of birds singing in a tree at the edge of a sunny field. As the mists of sleep vanished in the light from the window, she really was hearing a bird singing outside. Then the church bell chimed. She hurried to wash her face and hands. One of her dresses needed washing, but there wasn't time now. She put on the other and went downstairs. Mama had a pot of porridge and some broth, keeping hot on the back of the stove.
"Good morning, Dora! You must have slept well. Your cheeks are all rosy this morning."
"That must be from the cold water I washed with. But yes, I slept like a hedgehog in the frost time. I always feel happier after some good company, don't you?"
"Well, unless the company is certain people I won't name, I do, especially if there's singing. So last night's company made you happy? Never mind, I can see you smile. Here, I'll fill a bowl for you. Your father has already gone to the mill, and he'd like your help keeping good notes, if they don't need you right away in the office."
"Oh, they must be starting early because Karl can only stay until just after midday. All right, I won't dawdle."
Mama didn't say anything more, but her eyes twinkled.
Magdeburg
Papers signed. Fees paid. Time to sit down with his faculty adviser and work out a class schedule for the fall term. Matthias was a little nervous about what kind of a welcome he was likely to get from Professor Dailey, after being absent from college for more than a year. But . . .
"Hello, Matthias, good to see you back here. I hear you had quite a rough introduction to the working world. I wish I'd thought a little more before suggesting that ore analysis to you. I had no idea where it was going to lead."
Matthias gave him a relieved smile. "Well, it wasn't you who talked me into going for the gold. So to speak. But Uncle Berthold made my ears ring about making a plan and sticking to it. After what happened, I had to admit there was logic to what he said, however he said it. So now the plan is to finish my degree before I do anything else. And he thinks I should study some business while I'm here, to go with it. Accounting and finance, at least, whenever it will fit in."
"Hmm, not a bad idea. We could take a look at when you might be able to do that, without slowing down the core curriculum. Whether you go into business yourself or work for somebody, you'd be more valuable if you understand money and management. For this term, though, let's put together a course list you can take here in town where the lab is, so you don't lose half your time running back and forth to the new campus. Math is still your bottleneck, starting out without the courses the Grantville high school kids get. Let's see . . ." He studied Matthias' transcript for a few seconds. "What do you say to taking the algebra and trig exams unofficially this afternoon, so we can see whether you need a little refresher tutoring before we drop you into calculus and analytic geometry? I'd really hate to have you get swamped."
Zur Gelben Ente
The two men sitting beside young Raimund Treck were influential enough, a patriarch in the Treck mining family and the county administration's Amtmann. For a tiny firm, TEF Metals, Inc. seemed to be attracting notice in the world.
"This appears to be more than a stockholders' meeting, Stefan. You have some things to tell us?"
"Yes, Herr Felbers, Frau Ehrenhardt, I'll get right to business. You've been asking when and how your investment capital can be retrieved. We are now able to give you an answer."
"We look forward to that with great interest. The recent dividends have been very welcome, but they come slowly."
"Yes. Well, I've been able to find enough investors to purchase your shares, Frau Ehrenhardt." He glanced around the table. But there was something in the way he said that, and his posture . . . and here it came. "As I'm sure you're aware, I have some savings, and as soon as I properly understood what this business can become, I made the decision to save as much of my salary as possible. Now, I don't have enough cash of my own on hand to buy out your whole investment, and I would consider it imprudent to borrow that much. So I must combine with others. Hence Herr Augustin Treck, here, and Herr Erhard Faulstich, who each have their own reasons to join, and Herr Raimund Treck, who is of course already a stockholder. Herr Fimbel declined to make an offer today, preferring to invest in further education at the college next year, and of course you're well acquainted with Herr Matthias Ehrenhardt's financial position. But between us, we are prepared to offer you all that you invested."
Berthold stared at him for two seconds, trying to decide what to respond to first. "Are you telling me you intend to drop everything and make a career of this? You have no intention of coming back to Eisenach, with all that was left undone?"
"I would have gone on my own some time soon, Herr Felbers. Working under you was always an apprenticeship in business, even if it wasn't called that. If any of this surprises you, it should be only that this is the time, and not some other. This is too precious an opportunity to let slip away."
"By Jesus, what if the Werra project slips away? There is much to do, and little time to do it in!"
"I know the situation well enough. The capital is what you need the most, and we offer that here and now. But if you truly need me at a critical moment, I can get away for a few days at a time, now that things are in proper order here. You taught me the value of good will in business, and I believe we each have reason to keep the other's good will."
Berthold folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. "Perhaps. And just why would I need your good will if you leave my employ?"
"Because you and your associates will soon have need of a great deal of electrical grade copper. It would benefit you to be on good terms with a supplier willing to sign a contract with a set delivery schedule and a set price, and believe me, our production is about to go up sharply. So, Frau Ehrenhardt, here are the offers from the four of us, to buy out your stock." He passed over a sheet of paper.
Grete looked at the paper, then at Berthold as his eyes came back up. Berthold snorted. "Stefan, this adds up to precisely what Grete invested in the first place."
"Yes, we were able to meet that sum, so that all of your capital can be retrieved to use as you wish."
"Good try, Stefan, and you even managed to keep a straight face, but you know me better than that. When was I ever content to simply get back what was invested, in any venture? What would be the point of investing, if there was no profit at the end? She took a risk when the founders needed it most, and the company is now worth a great deal more than it was then."
"It's worth more because I made it so. Very quickly, I might add."
"Yes, you did, and you were paid a proper salary for doing it. Your money was never at risk. Hers was. The stock price will reflect the capital gain."
Old Treck narrowed his eyes. "Spare us the lecture on elementary finance, Felbers." He reached out and stabbed his finger down on the paper. "Here is the bottom line. This is how much money we offer at this moment. The matter to be settled here is how many of those shares it will buy us at this moment. Everything else we can talk about afterward." The bargaining had begun.
The Faulstich home
Mansfeld
"How gracious of you to invite us, Herr Faulstich! The roast duck was excellent, certainly better than we might have found at an inn."
"I'm pleased that you enjoyed it, Frau Ehrenhardt, and I'll pass on your compliment to Aristide. He really is an excellent cook. We're fortunate to have him here in Mansfeld."
"Oh, yes, Papa, what would life be without a decent dinner? Or some music and dancing?"
"Now, Elisabeth, it would still be life, and it's not that long ago far too many people had neither. We've been fortunate."
"Yes, I suppose so. And thank you so much for the green silk. Gisela and I are almost ready to start sewing. It will make such wonderful new gowns for Mama and me. If you don't mind . . . ?" She half-rose.
Faulstich gestured toward the stairs, palm-up. "I understand, Elisabeth. Herr Felbers and Frau Ehrenhardt and I have some things to talk about anyway. Come down later and sing for us, all right?"
She bounded away with a gay wave of the hand and a dazzling smile. Berthold couldn't help watching her leave. Elisabeth Faulstich was a stunningly beautiful girl. Really extraordinary, and very graceful. As he brought his attention back to their host, a quick smile of amusement crossed Grete's face for just a moment. Or maybe an expression of something else; it was hard to tell. At any rate, Berthold had no doubt at all that Erhard Faulstich had a reason for offering them a fine dinner and a comfortable guest room overnight, after the day's business was done.
Faulstich was looking back at him. "Would you care for coffee or wine, while we talk?"
"Wine for me, if you please." He glanced at his wife.
"For me, the same."
Gisela, the maid, half-curtsied as she carried away the last of the serving dishes. Faulstich settled back in his chair. "Well. Your reasons for withdrawing from the metal refining investment drew my curiosity, Frau Ehrenhardt. I caught a few bits, and would like to know more, if it isn't confidential. I understand you're taking part in a large venture to make electricity? This is a mining county, and electricity seems to be part of the whirlwind of change sweeping through here. I'd be interested in whatever you can tell me about what's involved in the business of doing it on a large scale."
"Ah. Berthold, why don't you begin?"
"All right, Grete. Well, to understand electricity as a business, it's necessary to first understand a little of the principles of making it. You have mountains and rain here, so you'd be turning your generators with water, yes? You know about water power, I'm sure, but our Dutch engineer tells us there are new mathematical principles that show exactly what can be done with water and how best to do it. With the new kinds of wheels . . ."
Grantville
Nat Davis could hardly complain about the rumble and clang Hanni Feldbaum was making, punching out sheet metal chassis for Grantville Radio Labs. She was an ace operator on that big turret punch. Unfortunately, the only place left to put the beast was right outside his office.
So much for literally keeping an open door policy. The best he could do was put up a sign, "Come on in, sorry about keeping the door closed," and hope it would be enough to let everybody who worked for him know they could come see him when they had something to say. And start thinking about where to get some more space. Again.
He looked up from the balance sheet in front of him when Leonhard Weicker walked in with a letter in his hand―and closed the door again before even trying to talk. "Whaddya got, Len?"
"Boss, you remember that crankshaft Louis Giamarino made for old man Dunkelberger, two, maybe three months back?"
"Sure. Never heard anything more about it, after we shipped it. Does he want some changes?"
"No. He wants another hundred like it. Maybe some more orders afterward, if it sells like he thinks."
"Good, that's a nice chunk of business, not that we're short of backlog." He turned to look at the schedule board on the inside wall. "Hmm, maybe the big lathe at the Schwarza production plant. We could free that up pretty soon. But we'll have to tool up, we can't run an order that size one-at-a-time. Tooling is what's gonna take time, even if we keep it simple. What kind of delivery is he asking for?"
"Well. He'd like the first two in three weeks. And ten every week after that."
"Holy catfish! That guy's been a good customer, but Lou's out sick with the galloping whoopsies, and I've got to go on the road next week. Anybody else around here I'd want to throw that kind of job at is loaded to the eyeballs. We could make the production rate easy once it's on the machine, but no way three weeks is gonna happen."
Leonhard walked over to the board. His finger reached out toward one of the magnetic markers. "What if we . . ."
Nat shook his head. "Uh-uh. I'm not pushing some other customer back to slip in a new order. Not unless it's a defense priority. I don't play those kind of games."
"So we say no?"
"Well, I hope not, except for the three weeks part of it. Call up Marcantonio's, they're the biggest tool-and-die shop around."
"Ja, everybody else knows it, too. I talked to them yesterday about something else. They're backed up worse than we are."
Nat tossed his pencil down on the desk, and looked out through the glass at nothing in particular, thinking. One of the junior machinists on the shop floor was setting up a job on a vertical mill. The new Braun & Scharff vertical mill . . . Brain cells clicked together. What the heck. "Got an idea. This is off-the-wall, but the guys at B&S could do it, for sure. I wonder if they could fit it in?"
Leonhard shrugged. "Busy place, but that reminds me, I was over there last week to see what they've got that they didn't have the week before, and they were crating up a nice-looking vernier index table. And guess where it was going? Fritsche Brothers, in Bischleben."
"Fritsche Brothers, huh? That's where Karl Reichert went, isn't it?"
"Ja, I think so."
"Karl Reichert. Smart guy, he was a good machinist when he was here. He's got to be better by now. Yeah. Send them a telegram, find out if he can take on a fixture job. If they say yes, airmail the crankshaft prints."
Leonhard gave back a startled look. "Airmail? The train could get them there by morning, if I mail them now."
"Fine, but send that telegram. I want an answer right away, especially if it's 'No.'"
Magdeburg
It was a good enough room, a little closer to school than the one he'd shared with Germund, and just a bit larger. Matthias had finally resorted to advertising in the newspaper for someone to share the rent. Ulf Duben was an oiler in one of the factories, a thoroughly decent fellow even if there were still people who thought a son of a knacker was unehrlich, but he wasn't somebody Matthias could ask for help with calculus. He'd been talking about becoming a steamfitter, which certainly offered a good future.
"Coming to church, Matthias?"
He looked up. "What? Is it time already?" He closed the book with a thump. "All right, maybe we can pick up some food on the way back so I can eat while I go over this again. This chapter on integrating trig functions is making my head spin. I'm going to have to stay on it once we get back here. If I can get that clear in my head, maybe I can get off a letter to Dora before bedtime, and tell her how things are going."
Bischleben
Karl pinned up the first of the blueprints to the wall. There was his fixture design, staring him in the face, checked and signed off by Giamarino himself, but it was still his own reputation spread out on that sheet for all to see, if he had it wrong. Stacked on the bench were the index plate castings, made to his specifications, and the two special-size reamers and matching drills, custom-ground at Braun & Scharff. He really didn't trust a fly cutter for this. You wanted to play in the big leagues, Reichert. Time to step up to the plate. He lifted one of the castings, clamped it to the milling machine, and chucked an edge finder in the spindle.
Sömmerda
It would have taken close to a week to send for more parts to speed up the last roller pair so Pels could do his next test. It made more sense for Thomas Hammel to knock out a pair of shaft supports on the forge and shape the ends with a file to fit the test bed rails. Even files were better these days. There was a piece of shaft left over from a machine repair. It was bigger than he really needed, but it was easiest to use what he had, and there was a drill on hand that could make the right size hole in a bearing cut from a stick of firewood. It didn't need to last long, to tell them whether they were on the right track.
He looked over to the other bench. Dora was nearly done whittling the pair of pulleys they'd need for the run.
Grantville
"You wanted to see me, Lou?"
Louis Giamarino gestured at the fixture parts lined up on the big surface plate in the toolroom. "Yeah, Nat. I went over it myself. I don't see anything out of tolerance here. The locating surfaces he put on the side are a slick idea. All we need to do to get the two sets lined up on opposite ends of the workpiece is slide them on after the main journals are ground, lay the end fixtures on a surface plate so they're at the same angle, and lock the collets. Gives us a clear shot at everything in between, once it's on the lathe. Wouldn't do it that way for mass production, but for a hundred it's plenty good enough. He even came up with a simple rig for center-drilling both ends in line with each other right on the lathe, so we don't need a separate operation on a milling machine and another big fixture."
"So you're happy with it? What's the next step?"
"Take it over to Schwarza this afternoon and run a couple of pieces myself to make sure it works, then walk the machine operators through setting it up and using it. Karl's operation sheet is pretty good. I don't think I'll have to touch that."
"Glad to hear it. Let me know how it goes."
Magdeburg
One of the Latin school students stuck his head in the seminar room, about the fourth time the metal weight hit the sandbox. The metronome kept clicking. "What's all this noise in here? Are you repairing the building, or just breaking it apart?"
Matthias couldn't resist giving him a logically precise answer. "No."
The youngster looked at him blankly, caught off guard. Well, a Latin school student ought to be used to linguistic precision by his age.
"No, I'm not repairing the building or breaking it apart. I'm refuting the ancients, by something they didn't bother to do, a simple physics experiment." He gestured at the apparatus, a pulley mounted high on the wall, with a cord over it, and slightly unequal weights on the two ends. "This is called Atwood's machine. The total mass of these two weights is a kilogram, but the difference between them is a tenth of a kilogram. So when I haul the lighter weight to the floor and let it go, the whole thing accelerates at a tenth of a gravity, slow enough so I can observe by eye where it is at the end of each second along that calibrated scale behind it. And by that I can verify that it moves at constant acceleration, not constant speed. And test the correctness of the equation that describes the motion."
"What? Didn't Aristotle say . . ."
Matthias smiled, and reached up again for the smaller weight. "Watch."
Bischleben
Friedrich Fritsche brought the latest box of parts up the stairs. "Here you go. I hope you can do these as quickly as you said. We seem to be getting a lot of these small jobs all of a sudden."
"Ever since that tooling job for Davis. I think he must have been satisfied, and told some people." Karl looked inside. It was a few dozen cast iron valve handles from The Steam Engine Company down near Grantville. He looked at the wrinkled print on top of the parts. Each one needed a slightly tapered square hole through the hub, and then both sides had to be faced off so the hub would have the correct thickness to fit the valve stem. There was a custom broach wrapped in oiled paper, and a couple of go/no-go gauges. "This is pretty simple. I wonder why they didn't do it themselves?"
"Too busy, maybe? It almost doesn't need a machine shop."
"It wouldn't, if it was wrought iron. You could just heat it up and drive a punch in, and do the rest on the anvil. Well, why don't I face the flat surfaces on the lathe and bore the center, and then you can broach the square hole on the arbor press. We'll need a simple fixture for the piece to rest on."
Magdeburg
Matthias went back three pages, and started reading again. The naming rules for hydrocarbon molecules should have been easy enough, for anyone who'd managed to learn to speak grammatically correct Latin without having to think about it. So why was it 3-ethyl-2-methylhexane, and not 2-methyl-3-ethylhexane? Oh. Here it was in a footnote. Alphabetical order, not positional order or length of functional group. An odd way to do things.
A couple of pages later, he hit another stumbling block. How were stereoisomers possible in straight-chain alkanes, without any double bonds to prevent rotation? He stared at the ball-and-stick diagram some more and visualized the three-dimensional layout of the carbon atom's bonds, and it began to make sense.
What he really wanted to know was, how had they made all those polymer plastics with such precision and purity up-time? But there was a lot of chemistry and mechanical engineering yet to learn, before there would be any hope of understanding that.
He rubbed his eyes, and decided it was time to get up and walk around. But if he was going past the mailbox at the corner anyway, he ought to finish the letter to Dora that had been on his desk for days, and take it along. He pounded his brain for five minutes for something to say to end it properly. Finally he gave up, signed, folded, and sealed it, and stuck on a stamp.
Sömmerda
Dora picked up the mail as she came in the door. "A letter from Matthias, Mama." She flicked her finger through the seal.
"Hmmph. Only one sheet. What does he say?"
"He says they learned to make a chemical they need for determining exactly how strong an acid solution is. He says it's an important step forward, and many industries will benefit."
"What else?"
"He got a bigger dividend payment from the metal refining shop. He's less worried about paying tuition, and he's sure he can afford the train tickets to travel at Christmas break."
"Nothing about you? Us?"
"He hopes we're well."
"Hmmph. What's the other one in your hand?"
"It's a note from Karl, that came tucked into a business letter to the mill. He hopes Papa and I might have business in Bischleben again some time soon, or Erfurt, where he could walk to in an hour, and there's a long, outrageous joke in it about a what a Swabian does to our German language. Here, you can read it."
Bischleben
"Georg, I've never seen so many inquiries. Look at this one. Two thousand hardened twelve-millimeter nuts. No drawing, just some handbook page reprinted in Grantville. And here, a drawing for a connecting rod, twenty-eight of them. All machine work, not smithing."
"I think it was that Davis tooling order that did it. Word got around. Now everybody knows about us. You and I can do some of this work, but . . . Karl! Will you come down here? We need to talk about all this."
"Coming, Herr Fritsche."
Half a minute later, Friedrich pointed to the papers stacked on the drawing table. "Have you seen what's been coming in? It's extraordinary."
"I've seen some of it, of course. I know I've been falling behind. Are you displeased?"
"No. More business is nothing to be displeased about, and it seems to be because your work is being recognized. But now we must decide what to do. Clearly, there is more coming in than one machinist can take on―" A smile flickered across the corner of his mouth. "―even with two gray old smiths lending a hand. So, we either pick and choose jobs, or we somehow find a way to do more." He looked a question at both men.
Karl took a deep breath. "Yes. I have thought about this. If I order a set of turrets for the lathe, or make them, it will become a hand screw machine, and run some of these production jobs much faster. But the milling machine work is growing, too. We need a second one, or we will before long."
"But one man can't run two milling machines. We can't even keep everything we have working now, and still do the forge work."
"No. We can't. So if we add another machine, we must have an operator to run it after I set it up, maybe two operators. And I believe the time has come for an apprentice."
"An apprentice? To have an apprentice, we would need to have a master machinist!"
Karl's hand came to rest on the stack of drawings and letters. "So we would, a master with his own shop, yes? Well, I have some money saved, and I've talked with the Abrabanel bank. With a loan from them, I can buy the parts for the lathe, and a small milling machine for precision jobs. They're making better ones now, you know. I'm willing to make that investment, for a share of the business."
Georg stared at him. "You'd put in all the money you have, and more besides, to become a partner with us? Is that what you mean? That's a bold proposal."
"I suppose it is, but I have my reasons. Masters, you've asked me to show you the new methods I learned in Grantville, and you've put them to quick use." He paused, and looked them in the face. "Is that enough to satisfy you that I can teach an apprentice?"
Eisenach
Grete looked up from her sewing. "Business in the capital, to do with the Werra project? Certainly, I'd like to go with you, Berti. Why, we might be able to go hear the Magdeburg Symphony in the evening, and perhaps Matthias could go hear it with us. Their playing is supposed to be magnificent. And if we go all that way, we ought to stop in Mansfeld, to look in on what they're doing at the shop. I've been thinking, it might be a good idea to just keep my remaining stock, if Stefan's plans look sound. I'll want your opinion about that, and Matthias' about this 'electro-winning' process he thinks will save money and capture much more of what's in the ore. Do you know, Stefan wants to be styled 'general manager' now, instead of 'factor'? He thinks it will sound more modern to customers. Oh, we ought to let the Faulstichs know we'll be there. Perhaps we might make a little social visit—after all, there's no telling when a connection to the Wettins and the Magdeburg city council could be useful. He seems to like you."
Grete was sometimes an overflowing fountain of ideas, when she got going. "It's a thought, Grete, it's a thought. There might be time enough. Let's see how it looks when all the appointments in Magdeburg are firm."
The Faulstich home
Stefan Gerstner set down his briefcase on the table. "Thank you for letting us meet here for company business, Herr Faulstich."
"It's my pleasure, Stefan, and more comfortable than the tavern. We have space enough, for anything that can be discussed without going up to the shop."
"Well, you're welcome to come see what we're doing there, any time."
"I'll try to do that again, the next time I tour the villages. There are several aspects I need to become a little more familiar with."
Augustin Treck shifted a little, where he was standing in front of the stove. "What I want to become a little more familiar with is how our costs would be affected by this new process you want young Ehrenhardt to give us a report on. If it saves money on charcoal for the smelting, I want to know how, and how much. Is anyone else doing it, and does it work for them?"
Stefan gave back a judicious nod that could have fit on an older man. "That, and are there pitfalls to step around, what would it cost to set up, and how much experimenting might it take to get it working right? Those would all have an effect on how much it might help our profits, and how soon we might see the increase, eh?"
Gisela put her head in from the entryway. "Herr Felbers and Frau Ehrenhardt."
"Ah, yes, come in, please. Gisela, show Herr Matthias Ehrenhardt right in when he arrives."
****
Matthias hadn't been to the Faulstich residence before, but the directions in the letter were clear enough. It looked well-kept, but you'd expect that someone responsible for much of a whole Stift's affairs wouldn't need to skimp. Having someone like this as a fellow stockholder was perhaps a double-edged sword; an Amtmann was in a position to sweep away many obstacles, but on the other hand it laid open every detail of the company's finances and operations to the county's de facto lords, the Wettins and the Magdeburg city government. So far, the arrangement seemed to be working, though.
The front door opened as he approached. A woman in servant's clothing looked at the portfolio in his hand, and beckoned. "Herr Ehrenhardt? This way, please." She opened an inner door.
"Yes, thank you." He stepped into a good-sized room on the ground floor, where several people were talking.
As he entered, Aunt Grete rushed over to him and took his hands. "You're looking well, Matthias. That school must be feeding you properly. Here, I'll introduce you to everyone. Here in front of us is our host, Herr Erhard Faulstich . . ."
". . . so, what have you found out about this electrical smelting trick?"
Matthias smiled. "That's not a bad way to think of it. It's not really smelting, and it's not completely electrical, but what it does is use electricity instead of heat to supply most of the energy to separate copper from its ore. Using heat means paying for fuel. Charcoal is expensive, coke is becoming less so, at least where the trains can bring it, but it still costs. Electricity is cheaper, as long as we can get it from water power, and don't have to use coal to make steam. Now, to understand how it works, I'll have to show you the chemistry. It's commonly done with two kinds of ores, oxides and sulfides. Both can be found around here. Now with sulfides . . ."
A sudden rush of footsteps on the staircase at the side of the room momentarily drew Matthias' attention away from the process diagram he was just picking up from the stack of notes in front of him. A young woman about his own age came flitting down the stairs with a cheerful smile on her face. He lost his train of thought completely and froze. He had never seen anyone so beautiful.
"Oh, Papa, you have people here? Mama and I are just going to visit . . ." And she was through to the entryway. He caught just a glimpse of an older woman who looked very much like her, before the inner door closed.
Aunt Grete was looking at him, but she didn't say anything. He gave his head a slight shake, and looked down at the diagram in his hand to get himself back on track. "With sulfides, one method starts by roasting the ore in air to turn it into an oxide, but that doesn't take nearly as much heat as smelting it all the way to copper metal. The roasting is done in an enclosed chamber, because the main by-product is sulfur dioxide, which is not only noxious if released, it's worth money if it's captured and further processed to . . ."
Sömmerda
Thomas straightened up. "It looks good and solid, Karl, it should hold up fine for extended testing, but you really didn't have to come up here with it."
"I suppose not, Herr Hammel, but I wanted to see whether the flyer-winder really works right with the roller train feeding fibers to it. And there's another reason. I wanted to give you this, Dora." He brought a comb out of his coat pocket and held it out. It glittered almost like silver in the sunlight coming in the south windows.
She took it in her hands and turned it over, looking at it from all sides, and finally looked back at him. "This is beautiful, Karl. The teeth are so even and smooth, even at the root. I've never seen anything quite like it. Where did it come from?"
"I made it on the milling machine, with a little fly cutter I ground to make the profile of the teeth. I hardened it in the forge afterward. It's spring steel, so it ought to last a lifetime with any luck. There was a batch of hardware parts going out for nickel plating, so I sent it along."
"Is—is this a courting gift?"
"Yes. Let me tell you about my new arrangement with the Fritsche brothers."
Beside the Werra
Berthold Felbers contemplated the construction crew on the far bank, digging a foundation hole for the wheel pit. Steam hissed into the air, as the machine pivoted, dropped another scoop into the dump wagon, and turned to reach down into the excavation again. Hannes Bosboom stepped out of the tent behind him and strode over to where he was standing. Another crew was putting up a construction office so the paperwork could be out of the weather; meanwhile some blueprints were laid out on a couple of planks propped on sawhorses, with river rocks for paperweights.
Berthold jerked his head over his shoulder. "Well, Bosboom, now we've done it. That's the consortium's money we're spending over there. All this planning had better be right."
The Dutch engineer gave back a judicious nod. "True enough, Herr Felbers. But I am confident, not foolishly arrogant for no better reason than the accumulated experience of twenty-seven years dealing with water works. Of course I had another engineer examine every calculation, and that was after we drilled in dozens of places and tested samples from everywhere the dam and powerhouse will rest. Fear not, it will stand."
"A master's confidence, yes, but there is never certainty in this world. Still, I understand, it's no higher than a common mill dam, and they stand through the winter's ice and the spring floods well enough. And thinking of that, it's an irony that we can't take advantage of all the high ground around us to build taller. But the townspeople upstream would certainly disapprove."
"Ha! I should think so! Not that we have no other tricks for later on, to raise a head of water without flooding towns. But we must leave our grandchildren something to do, eh? Let them go to the Alps and build dams taller than the Ring wall."
Magdeburg
December
"Nice, Matthias. You nailed that concentration. If you're interested, the lab assistant spot for next term is open, and I think you could do a good job at it. It's mostly preparing samples and reagents for the first year classes."
"Thank you, Professor Dailey, I could use the money. Thank you for your confidence."
"You've earned it. Come see me after the new year, and we'll go over it."
****
Herr Folte:
Since you ask my opinion, following the reports by Master Pels and Master Hammel which you have sent copies to me, my belief is that the test beds for the different parts of the spinning machine have accomplished their purpose. Your craftsmen now understand the motions necessary to spin linen thread mechanically, and can explain what is required.
My opinion, therefore, is that the time has arrived to seek the services of the machine designers at Marcantonio's machine shop in Grantville, who could create a set of engineering drawings for a practical spinning machine. It would be best to hold the consultations at your mill, where the designers could see the test beds in operation and possibly conduct further tests. If you think it would be useful, I could come to Sömmerda again, to help explain what we built and have learned.
Of course, our shop remains ready to make any of the machine parts which you may desire to order from us.
Scriptum Bischleben
Cordially,
Karl Reichert
****
My dear Dora,
The term is ending soon, and I know now that I will have enough left for traveling. I've missed you, and I look forward to seeing you again on the way home to Eisenach. There is other good news besides . . .
Sömmerda
"Matthias!" Dora's hand flew to her breast. "I wasn't expecting to see you. Haven't you gotten my letter?"
"Letter? No. Maybe it's in Magdeburg now, I left several days ago. I had to wait in Erfurt for the weather to get better before I could walk up here from the train station. What did it say?"
"Oh. This is difficult. Maybe it's best to . . . Papa, Karl, will you come in here?"
"Coming, Dora." A young man with a book half-open in his hand, about Matthias' age, came in from the kitchen. Herr Hammel followed close behind, with an unreadable expression on his face.
"Karl, this is Matthias Ehrenhardt, I told you of him."
"Herr Ehrenhardt." Karl offered a sort of uncertain half-bow.
"Matthias, this is Karl Reichert. He is a master machinist, who has been doing work for the mill. He has been courting me, and on Papa's advice I have agreed. We are to be married."
Matthias' knees went weak for a moment. "What? I don't understand. I thought . . . Do you mind if I sit down?"
Herr Hammel gave him a look that had to be sympathy, and waved to one of the chairs. "No, of course not. Please."
"What happened?"
"Matthias, I didn't know where I stood with you. I hardly heard from you for the last year, and when you did write, it was almost nothing but chemical reactions and pipes and pumps, nothing about our future. If you cared, I couldn't tell."
Herr Hammel put in, "And the business failure, Matthias, and all the delays finishing your education, no end in sight. You're bright, but I had to wonder, could you harness that to provide for a family? Please forgive me, but I had to think of Dora."
"But Dora, I did all this for you! I wanted to start making money instead of spending it, as soon as I could, that's why I worked so hard at the metal venture. It didn't work until Stefan intervened, and I can't tell you how sorry I am. But that's why I've been attending to my studies so much since then. Doing what I had to so we could be together, that's what it was all for."
"It was? I couldn't tell that. How could I? All the letters I sent, and so few coming back. I wasn't even sure you'd be disappointed. But then Karl came, and he's a fine man too. There aren't many. I had to decide. I'm sorry, Matthias."
"I'm sorry, too. I can only hope you'll be happy. Here, take this, I brought it to be a Christmas present, but let it be a wedding present instead. It's a dozen scented candles." He paused. "What will you do now?"
"We're going to live in Bischleben. Karl's partners have agreed to let him bring me into the shop as his apprentice. In time I will be a machinist, not just the wife of the master machinist, I will have the name and the trade myself." She reached out and took Karl's hand with a fierce grip. "There's no guild of machinists to say a woman can't." Her expression softened. "And you?"
"Go back to college when the term begins, and finish what I started. It's what Uncle Berthold roared at me, and I've come to believe he's right, it's the only thing to do now. The rest, figure it out later." He gave a deep sigh. "I'd better be going."
Herr Hammel put out his hand. "Matthias, we Vehra and Henschleben folk, we share a Heimat, a special place in this world. Can we stay friends?"
"Always, Herr Hammel. Always." He took her father's hand for a moment, and turned to go.
Eisenach
Grete was waiting on the platform when the train rolled to a stop. Her head turned from side to side as passengers streamed from the cars, trying to pick out her nephew. And there he was, at the rear door of the second car, just buttoning his winter coat! There was no point in trying to call out to him over the noise of the arriving passengers and everyone meeting them, though. She started skirting the crowd, working her way along the platform.
She was nearly close enough to be heard, when he turned his head and saw her, and extricated himself from the stream of people. She hastened forward and embraced him for just a second or two. "Matthias! It's so good that you could come! Congratulations on that new position with your professor, but tell me, did you get the grades you were expecting on your examinations this term? And what's the rest of the news? Did you visit Sömmerda on the way, as you said you would in your letter?" She saw his face change. "What is it? Is something wrong?"
"Yes, Aunt Grete. Dora is betrothed, to a master in one of the new crafts." He paused. "Her father assures me that he's a fine man and will treat her kindly. I don't know, maybe she was right to do it. We made such a mess of the metal business until Stefan stepped in."
"Oh, Matthias, I'm sorry. That's such a disappointment, and just before Christmas. Well, come home, and you can tell me everything over coffee. Or something stronger, if you like. At least, you're with family now."
The thought went through her mind of Elisabeth Faulstich, and the connections she could bring to them all. As sweet and virtuous as Dora was, Elisabeth could be an opportunity. But this was no moment to say any of that to Matthias, regardless of how he'd looked at her. She could bring it up in private with Berthold later, though. She needed to get better acquainted with Elisabeth's mother.
Christmas Eve
Matthias' behavior at supper could only be described as moping. He was polite to Lotte when she served him—anything less would have been utterly out of character among the Ehrenhardts, the Hammels, or any of their relations and old friends. But though he was at home with the family, he spoke only when he was spoken to, and looked down at his plate more than anywhere else.
Grete sighed. She'd hoped the evening of dance and song last night at the Mosbacher house would cheer him up. He'd accommodated their daughter Sophie amiably enough when she wanted to try out a couple of simple up-time dance steps, and learned them with little difficulty, but the evening's entertainment did nothing to lighten his mood.
When Grete announced that it was time for everyone to leave for the church service, he put on his coat and simply followed without comment.
It was a clear, starry evening, and the sanctuary was full of good feelings. Neighbors greeted each other with good wishes until the pastor appeared; again Matthias answered sparingly. The service began, and he seemed absorbed in his own thoughts through the sermon.
Then the choir stood up to sing.
Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
Alles schläft; einsam wacht
Nur das traute hochheilige Paar.
Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar,
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!
They followed the original German words with the later English verses, really more of a different poet's version than a direct translation.
Silent night, holy night,
All is calm, all is bright . . .
As they went on, Grete saw Matthias' face lose some of its tension, and settle into a look of serenity. Well, the hymn was a message of hope and peace, and the serenity in the music itself filled the church from end to end. Perhaps anything that could give that to her nephew was a small part of the great miracle in itself, and something else to give thanks for.
Kloster Mansfeld
January 1637
It was convenient that the cookshop near the railroad station had a few indoor tables, otherwise they'd have had to go into Mansfeld itself to find a place to meet. The station building gave shelter from the weather, and not much else.
The kitchen boy set down bread and cheese while they settled themselves on the benches. Augustin Treck was still shaking his coat into a comfortable shape when Stefan leaned forward and cast a meaningful glance at the folder in Matthias' hand.
"Yes, Stefan, this is the report you commissioned on the state of copper refining at Ilmenau, and the bill for my time and expenses. We're grateful to you both for coming to meet us here instead of asking us to come into town. It makes things so much easier."
"Certainly, Matthias, Frau Ehrenhardt. I don't see your baggage. Is somebody watching it for you?"
"No, it went on ahead to Magdeburg. We'll catch the northbound local in three hours and collect it from the baggage room when we arrive."
"Ah. Then let's order our food and you can begin telling us what you learned. The daily special?"
Aunt Grete gestured palm-up, and Matthias nodded. The boy nodded back and hurried off.
"So. I had a fruitful visit to a big shop doing electro-winning down there, by the older method. They prepare the sulfide ore by roasting, as I described the last time I was here. They've had to build a good deal of new apparatus to do it, and they're still having some problems with the by-products, but it does save a lot of fuel.
"I also asked them whether they'd heard of a reaction I found it a book, that doesn't use heat at all, but extracts the copper and sulfuric acid by electricity and chemistry alone. It turned out they had, but they weren't ready to use it. They believe that the cold leaching step requires much finer crushing than roasting does, almost to dust, otherwise it's too slow to be of any use. So it has to wait for better crushing machinery. And nobody was clear on what it does with the trace metals. We would want answers to that, since we make some of our money by selling the sludge. The details are here in the report."
Treck stroked his beard. "But no furnaces or fires at all? That ought to make it all a lot cheaper. Is it something we could do?"
Matthias sighed. "I know what you're saying. But you know what happened the last time we tried to get ahead of ourselves. There isn't anybody doing it that I know of, who we could go observe, and then there's the cost and time to invent the machinery. I think you'd see a return much sooner if you do what they're already doing down south. And it wouldn't be such a sudden change to your journeymen."
"You sound like me. Do what you already know will work. But what if someone else perfects this other method to refine copper, and we're not paying attention meanwhile?"
"Well, it wouldn't cost too much to experiment with it on the benchtop. If you only need half a kilogram of crushed ore to play with, you could get that much with a blacksmith's hammer. We might learn a lot."
"Perhaps we might. Stefan, what do you think?"
Stefan was looking across the room. "I think our food is coming this way. Frau Ehrenhardt, I'll summarize our financial position while we eat, and then we can come back to Matthias' report."
****
The local was quite a different affair from the through train they'd come up on. Grete watched an old man on the platform holding tightly to a small girl's hand, keeping her well back from the track. The girl stared wide-eyed as a single car without a locomotive came rushing into the station and stopped in seconds without fuss or fanfare. A door popped open near the front, and the conductor came bustling down the stairs and threw open a baggage compartment underneath.
"I think I'd rather sit by the window this time, Matthias." Grete side-stepped into the first row, just behind the boarding stairs, ducking her head beneath the baggage rack.
"All right, Aunt Grete." He paused for a moment while she settled her skirts, then sat down beside her.
She glanced his way. "That all went well, I thought. You gave them their money's worth. Do you think they'll do what you suggested?"
"It's hard to say. Stefan and old Treck will want to figure out what it would all cost, at the shop and at the smelter, after Raimund and Jupp read the report and think about how it would be done. And then they'd need to talk to Hartmann about whether they could get enough electricity. Every drop of moving water up here has somebody's name on it, you know."
"Yes, that's what Berthold talks of half the time. I can't imagine what it must have been like negotiating all those twentieth-century water and land arrangements. Just think of damming the whole Weser, in eight places!"
"It is astonishing, isn't it? I have to wonder whether that whole thing was one of Hitler's diktats, tearing through anything and anyone in the way."
She shuddered. "Nothing could be worth what that madman did."
Grete looked around at the sound of clattering and thumping beneath their feet, to see two more figures come aboard. "Oh! Frau Emmerling and Frau Faulstich, are you traveling to Magdeburg today?" It was Elisabeth and her mother. Grete smiled.
"Frau Ehrenhardt! But no need to be so formal, you've been a guest in our house. Juditha and Elisabeth, please! How nice to see you! Yes, we're going up to visit my brother Lorenz. He works in the city architect's office, if I didn't mention him before. A moment." She pointed at the overhead rack on the other side of the aisle, as a plainly dressed young woman followed them up the stairs with her arms full. "Genoveva, all that can go up there."
This looked to Grete like an opportunity get better acquainted with the Faulstichs, if she was quick enough. "Matthias, stand up, will you?" She stepped out of the row, took hold of the seat-back and pulled it toward the front of the car so that their seat now faced backward, sat down again by the window, and gestured to the newcomers. Juditha smiled, and took the window seat in the second row facing her, leaving Matthias and Elisabeth to take the facing aisle seats. The other woman, Genoveva, found a seat a couple rows back on the far side of the aisle and began to knit.
Meanwhile, Grete kept a bland smile on her face while she took in the new tidbit. So they had a second connection with Otto Gericke through her brother? That could be valuable some time. Elisabeth seemed to be noticing her nephew; well, Matthias was a presentable enough young fellow, without even thinking of his bright future. Matthias—well, no healthy young man could fail to notice Elisabeth.
"So, Juditha, then, a family visit? That sounds very fine. Family is always important."
"Well, yes, but we'll be out and about, too. I have some papers Erhard wants me to give to the city administration, and then there's the city itself to see. It's supposed to be better than it ever was before, as much of it as has been rebuilt anyway. And then I hear the dance company might be performing 'Lament for a Fallen Eagle.' We've never seen it. Travel wasn't so easy when it was first written."
"And the tea dance Uncle Lorenz got us invited to, Mama! It should be such a pleasure, and we'll see what everyone is wearing in Magdeburg this year. I hope our new gowns aren't too out of fashion."
"Oh, I don't think we need to worry about that, dear. Your father takes the newspapers from the capital, after all. Matthias, do you dance?"
"A little, now and then, but I'm more of a musician. But I've had to put that aside too this year, and spend most of my days at my studies since returning to college. Things move so fast at Imperial Tech. They want us to earn our diplomas and go out to make a difference in the world, and the sooner the better."
Grete winked at him. "But you'll have time to accompany me to the art exhibit at the palace, yes? And perhaps the bookstores?"
Matthias laughed. "The palace, easily enough, it's not that far from where I'm taking classes. I can show you the new campus, too. But bookstores . . . I could spend my life in bookstores and libraries. Don't put temptation in front of me."
Elisabeth looked confused. "Books are a temptation? I read the Bible, but that's a virtue, not a temptation. Isn't it?"
The conductor bounded up the stairs, the door snapped shut, a raucous horn sounded overhead, and the car started off with a soft, rhythmic hiss. Juditha looked slightly alarmed for a moment, until she saw Grete and Matthias sitting calmly and looking out the window as the town's buildings seemed to slide past. Her hand dropped tentatively to the window sill as she looked around, then turned back to Grete. "It's noisier than a coach, isn't it? Not nearly so bumpy, though. Just that steady clicking. You came all the way from Eisenach in only a day?"
"And it's so much warmer, too, Mama! Perhaps we didn't need to dress so heavily." She moved her hand around, feeling for the current of warm air rising from somewhere near their feet. Matthias pointed to the low row of pierced screening, running along the base of the car's side.
Elisabeth's face screwed up for a moment. "Ouch. I have a little bit of a headache. I wish I'd stopped for a cup of coffee before we left the house. We would have had time."
"Oh, you might be able to get one in Stassfurt. Matthias, didn't you say something about a refreshment stop there?"
"Yes, it's the train's halfway point. There's a longer stop there, and vendors at the station. We just ate, but you could get off and buy something if you want to."
Elisabeth put her hand to the side of her head for a moment, wavered between a grimace and a half-smile, and started looking out the window at the passing scenery. It was mostly fields here, with snow in places.
Juditha was looking on with interest. "It's really beautiful here, now that the armies are far away, isn't it, Grete? And we can just sit here and enjoy it in comfort. And yet a horse would seldom run this fast, even if it weren't pulling a carriage. How long can this—what do they call it?—keep it up, though?"
Grete laughed. "What was it you said, Matthias? Until they run out of fuel or water?"
"That's right. They'll fill it up again in Magdeburg. And they call this a railbus."
Then he seemed to be at a loss for words, for a few moments. Finally he turned toward Elisabeth again. "Speaking of books, have you read any of the future novels they've translated into German? Some of them are very interesting, as much for what they say about the people of those times, as for the stories."
"Oh, I don't know, I did start Das Mädchen mit dem Perlenohrring because Mama thought I should, but it seemed to plod. So much about a painter who wasn't getting anything done. But it was a painter of our time, so maybe the writer from the future didn't understand." She ran her fingers over the carving on the seat arm.
Juditha's eyes twinkled. "My daughter has a taste for poetry more than long narratives, I think."
"Oh, Mama, not always. I did enjoy parts of Herr Baum's book, "Der Zauberer von Oz," but some of it made very little sense. The weather in Kansas must be frightening. Is that why the savages with the feather bonnets who live there now just have those simple tents? So they can make new ones easily, if they get blown away?"
Grete gave her a sharp look, but kept her silence for the moment. This didn't seem to be the sort of conversation to be expected from someone of such a leading family.
****
The conductor stood up at the front of the car. "Stassfurt in five minutes. Those who wish to buy food or drink from the vendors, please move to the end of the car now and get off first. We stop for fifteen minutes. Keep your tickets with you and return to the car promptly when the horn blows twice. That will be one minute before departure. Passengers leaving the train in Stassfurt, please gather your belongings and make certain you have everything. See the agent beside the car to claim any baggage you have stowed below."
Elisabeth opened her eyes. "Oh, Mama, do you think they'll have some coffee? That might help with my headache. Maybe they'll have something worth eating, too, that might settle my stomach a little, but I'm sure it won't be anything like Aristide's cooking. Nobody cooks like Aristide."
Grete chuckled a little. "Well, I think some of the cooks in Magdeburg might disagree with that, but you could give my respects to Aristide the next time you see him. Matthias, have you tried what they sell here?"
"No, I've always had time to get something before getting on the train, it's less expensive that way. But what I've seen people come back with is fried pastries with whatever they wanted inside, nuts, fruit stored from the harvest, and so on. You know, things that are easy to bring on board and eat at leisure. Cookshop food."
****
Grete broke off questioning Matthias on the expenses of purifying the more desirable grades of sulfuric acid, when Juditha and Elisabeth came back with a few small items wrapped in newspaper. "Mama, did we need to rush so, to gulp it down? It was hot, and it didn't taste very good."
"No, willow bark tea doesn't taste very good, even with honey in it, but it's probably the best thing for your headache, better than coffee. We were lucky someone had it. And I saw no need to pay extra just so we could bring the cup with us. We're not poor, but that would have been an unnecessary expense."
There was a change in the mutter of mechanical noises around them, then the horn blasted twice. The conductor came back from conferring with someone in the station building and stood by the door, waiting out the minute for any last passengers. Juditha and Elisabeth settled themselves.
Grete looked on to see what they had, raising her eyebrows in a question.
"I had a cup of apple cider. Freshly squeezed. Quite good." Juditha opened her package and tipped it forward to show what was inside. "I just bought a couple of small things to try, to see what it's like. So we know next time. This one is a simple bread made of coarse-ground American corn, sliced with a berry preserve within." She took a bite and considered. "Peasant food, but adequate, if you don't expect it to be anything else. Decent nourishment, not any sort of art. Here, Elisabeth, you can try it, and let me have a taste of that chicken and potato pastry. You've always had a delicate stomach when we rode in a coach, but . . ."
"But this is nothing like riding in a coach on a rutted road, is it, Mama? Even horseback wouldn't be as easy. My stomach is fine, at least." She broke off a fragment to hand to her mother, and bit into the remainder. "Yes, peasant food, just as you say. But I suppose it's not meant for a discriminating taste."
Matthias looked thoughtful for a second or two, and commented, "I imagine it's meant to sell at a price most passengers can afford, even tired workmen going home. And I wouldn't say anything against peasant food. Mostly, it's what they can get, not what they might appreciate if they had more to work with."
Grete thought about that.
****
A snow flurry blew through, blotting out the view. The railbus kept going without a pause. Elisabeth shifted in her seat, tapped her fingers on the carved arm for a while, looked over toward Genoveva for a moment, then turned toward her mother. "I really wish Papa would have let Gisela come with us, with so much left to do on the gown before I can wear it to the dance. Her sewing is much better, and why couldn't it have been finished before we left? We had such a good plan."
"We've spoken of this before. Gisela is sick. When she's well, there will be other work waiting for her at home. I pray she will be well soon."
Elisabeth sniffed. "Yes. I pray the same. I only hope we can manage it. I suppose I must take up a needle as well, if I hope to at least make as good a showing as Lena Hartstein. She has been in the capital before, and knows people there. I hear the mysterious sailor who has been interested in her has come down from Lübeck, at least that's what I heard from Heidi Grolsch, who ought to know."
Juditha looked puzzled for a second or two. "Sailor? Wait, I think I remember something of the conversation. I don't think he's a common sailor. Wasn't there a mention of something important, that nobody will talk about?"
"Well, whatever kind of sailor he is, she has someone interested in her. I wonder who we might meet in Magdeburg? There are so few of our class in Mansfeld. I hope we heard correctly about lace collars becoming narrower. It would be hard to change it now. Matthias, what have you seen?"
"On fashionable women? I'm afraid I haven't given much attention to what they're wearing. Most of my time is taken up with students and professors, and the people I pass in the district where I live. They don't usually dress for show. Trousers seem to be getting more common than when I first came to college, though."
Juditha looked startled. "So it's true, then? What will it all mean? What can it all mean? Will we look out of place?"
"I'm sure you'll be fine, Frau Emmerling. You seem well-dressed enough to me. Wait until you see what some of the foreigners wear!"
Grete caught Matthias' eye flicking upward toward the book bag on the rack overhead. Such an impulse was only too predictable, in the face of chatter of that sort. He looked like he was only restraining himself out of politeness from standing up and taking out the calculus book he'd spent some time with during the long ride on the evening before. Perhaps she could steer the conversation toward something of more mutual interest.
Magdeburg Central Station
Grete was deep in thought as they stepped down to the platform. The way the whole encounter with the Faulstichs had gone was far from what she'd hoped for, or even imagined. That girl Elisabeth had employed none of the ordinary womanly ways of holding a man's attention. She could scarcely have been ignorant of them. Though she'd spoken to Matthias, she'd shown little—awareness? Grete couldn't find the word to express her thought—of him. Was the girl blind to the whole world outside her narrow set? Had her parents said nothing to her of where opportunity, and valuable connections, now lay? Did she even understand where her own family's wealth and influence came from? There were questions to be asked, and a good deal of thinking to do, before she could entertain any notion of trying to bring them together again.
"Frau Juditha Emmerling?" The call brought Grete back to her surroundings; she turned to see where it had come from. A middle-aged man with a wheelbarrow was standing back from the knot of passengers gathering around the open baggage compartment, searching among the faces. "I am Hans Weiss. Herr Lorenz Emmerling sends me."
"Ah. I am Juditha Emmerling. Lorenz cannot come himself? Well enough. This is my daughter, Elisabeth. We should have our cases in a moment." She motioned Genoveva toward the man.
A man in a railroad cap was busily pulling bags and cases out of the compartment. Passengers stepped forward and took some from his hands, others he swung out to a growing collection on the platform. A large leather-covered trunk gave him some trouble; he freed it after a hard tug, but it escaped from his grasp, dropped to the rough paving with a thump, and skidded a couple of handspans.
Elisabeth erupted in a screech and charged forward. "Fool! Ignorant barbarian! Is this how you treat fine things? Do you have any idea what it took to create that, or what is inside! I shall . . ." Her hand rose into the air.
The conductor was beside her in an instant. "Mademoiselle. If there is any complaint to be lodged, you would make it to me. I am in charge of this train, and responsible for what is done here."
"Yes? You saw what this fumbling oaf did! Do you know who we are?"
He snapped a glance at Elisabeth and her mother. "The family of someone influential, I should imagine. But it matters little."
"Matters little? You shield this Drecksack? We shall see about that. I shall make inquiries, and . . ."
"I shall save you the trouble of inquiring. The head of this railroad is Mister Hugh Lowe, and if you write to him, you will undoubtedly receive a polite letter from an assistant, informing you of the following facts. First of all, that man is doing his job according to the railroad's rules, and I will not annoy him with unnecessary orders. He has precisely five minutes from the time this railbus stopped until it must move again, in which to unload the baggage of the arriving passengers, make certain that he does not unload the baggage of anyone continuing on, and load anything of passengers boarding here. If he were to fail in this, the train would leave late, the remaining passengers would arrive at their stops late, this train might very well have to wait for trains coming the other way, and then there would almost certainly not be sufficient time to clean and service it properly for the next run south. All this would be to the displeasure of a great many people, beginning with myself. A few scrapes and scuffs to the outside of baggage are to be expected, in particular oversize and overweight baggage such as I see here. If you have not read the pamphlet Tips for Train Travelers, I advise you to request a copy from the agent inside the station. It may save you some annoyance in the future. And now, I see by the clock over the doorway that there is little more than a minute and a half remaining until the time of departure, and he is not finished. Therefore I, Guillaume Thériault, must go to his assistance. It is the rule." In another moment he had his head and shoulders inside the compartment.
Elisabeth looked like she was gathering words for another storm, but struggling to decide which ones to choose.
Grete looked from her, to the railroad official, to Matthias. The frown of disapproval on Matthias' face made her thankful that she had never spoken aloud of any thought that Elisabeth Faulstich might make a suitable bride or a desirable addition to their family. Drecksack? That was no word a refined person ought to use in public. Granted that she hadn't grown up with Pastor Kleinke's moral teachings—after all, how many outside their old Heimat did?—this girl was utterly lacking in any sort of kindness, understanding of others, or a properly Christian concern for good works. No, this was not a match to pursue any further.
Relations with the Faulstichs would remain businesslike. Cordial, but not intimate.
****
To be Continued . . .