7. Awakening

Barely dawn, Lola in the kitchen brushing aside ashes, reviving the fire, Katja opening the lower floor windows, Wulda more quiet than at any other time knocking on the service door, sleeping standing up if she could, if she knew that Katja had not heard her and was coming to open it; a little later but not much, the noise of china, knives, decanting liquids; Miss Esther being the first to enter the dining room, sometimes finishing breakfast and leaving before anyone else had arrived; before the clock in the salon struck eight, Madame Helena coming down to the kitchen; and perhaps at or about this moment Mr. Pallud entering the dining room nose to the wind detecting breezes and the smell of coffee; the General returning from his hike; and then the Simeonis coming down when they came down to breakfast since they did not always come down, indeed, as Madame Sophie’s health deteriorated, more and more frequently they remained upstairs, calling and waiting for trays to be brought up to their rooms; just before nine Madame Helena appearing in the dining room, and then, eager and smiling, the last one to arrive, strange because a student ought to be in class or at his books at dawn, young Gangulf seeking his strong black bitter coffee and, as if guilty, drinking it quickly without eating anything, saying good-bye and leaving even before Madame Helena sat, and breakfast service waited until she had finished and left to patrol the house looking at everything, checking, watching, listening, and touching, at times calling to point out was needed at that moment in the morning as people left the house: Madame Helena doing her duties as lady of the house, visiting the plumber or lawyer or wallpaper shop, going to the bank or upholsterer, Lola in the market buying parsnips or a half-peck of durum wheat flour or ordering claret wine since it was about to run out, the General marching toward the Army Museum, young Gangulf to the university, Miss Esther to “Miraflora,” but Mr. Pallud in slippers shut inside his room diligently cleaning and arranging his treasures, Nehala and her mother arguing over a pillow Madame Sophie wanted a little lower, not that much, on the side, there, there where her back hurt so much and her daughter ought to know where it hurt unless she was doing that intentionally, Katja and Wulda cleaning, scrubbing, shaking, polishing, progressing up and down without pause until the time when everyone except often young Gangulf and Miss Esther started arriving for lunch, when Katja changing in her bedroom watched herself reflected in the glass of the open windows against the dark wall, and Wulda, settling into the kitchen, adjusted her apron and looked at Lola, looked at her, as if by looking at her she would hear her better, and felt hunger creeping in through her nose, sauces as porous as tulle arriving through her eyes, golden broths making her mouth water, meat the color of pressed grapes in summer dropping into her stomach, silver and marble fish dancing in her belly, rosy and jasmine creams, come on girl pay attention or you’ll burn your fingers and the devil will get the chance to put his hand under your petticoats; and upstairs conversations measuring words against the clatter of cutlery, Madame Helena presiding over a long table with a white tablecloth and chalk-colored dishes with a border of Amadou-style twining rosy birdweed branches that she treasured although it was no longer in style.

After lunch once again the house emptying itself of noise, voices, and movement, purring only in the kitchen and in the Simeonis’s rooms, the General absorbed in some battle plan, Mr. Pallud dozing in his armchair, Madame Helena balancing the books; culminating in rest, in the silence of teatime and beyond that, the house and with it its inhabitants waking only close to dinnertime, Katja lighting the lamps in the salon, each one coming downstairs feeling uneasy, appearing in vain at the double doors because they had to wait patiently for the arrival of Madame Helena once again presiding over a snowy-white table at night with a silver centerpiece, suggesting a discussion topic, asking a question, the General clearing his throat, always falling into the trap, the Simeonis very close together on the other side of the table, asking each other questions, back and forth, answering each other, complaining quietly, Katja entering with trays and bottles and clean plates but then, unlike after breakfast, the house did not quiet down but instead lit up, bright and lively in the salon, the guests conversing, Madame Helena offering bonbons, Katja bringing liquors in etched bottles with silver necks, someone laughing, proposing a game, and finally arising and wishing good night, little by little and one by one others doing the same and from there on the house becoming hushed, lights being put out, doors closed, windows shuttered, and only a creak, a rustle, a murmur, and the dominion of dreams.