Marlene Read Online Free

Delighted to see us, he took us to a confiserie for vanilla cakes and marzipan, and then on to the Café Bauer on the Friedrichstrasse for hot chocolate to go with our cakes. I had an insatiable sweet tooth, and Mutti, for all her rigidity at the table, indulged my vice, as a girl with flesh on her bones proved she came from an upstanding family. I ate my share but also surreptitiously wrapped several marzipans in my handkerchief, pocketing them while Uncle Willi paid the bill, even as my sister eyed me in dismay.
    Mutti did not mention her upcoming marriage again, at least not with us, though I assumed at some point she informed Uncle Willi. She didn’t believe in debating her decisions with us, and of course we were in no position to challenge them. But rebelliousness seethed in me. By the followingweek, I felt so helpless before this momentous change in my life, I stopped pretending in class and vied openly for Mademoiselle’s attention. I was the first to present my flawless assignments, the first to raise my hand and answer any question she posed, oblivious to the others’ glares when she commended me for my diligence.
    “Let Maria be an example,” she told the class, giving me her coveted smile. “She has shown that with the proper attitude and diligence, anyone can learn to speak French.”
    As almost everyone suspected I had started out with an advantage they lacked, I didn’t endear myself to my classmates and I didn’t care. I wanted only to endear myself to her. The marzipan I’d taken became little gifts wrapped in scraps of lace, adorned with a single poppy, which I deposited on her desk every day before I left, my eyes downcast as she exclaimed, “How thoughtful of you,” and I murmured, “ De rien, Mademoiselle.” That the marzipan was misshapen, soggy from being stored in my pocket, made no difference; it was my gesture of appreciation that mattered.
    The very next week when Mutti went to Dessau to determine if the von Losch house would suit as our new residence, which meant she’d return home later than usual, Mademoiselle invited me to a stroll after school. Although I’d promised to go straight home to help Liesel with chores and supper—as predicted, our maid had been sacked—I waited for Mademoiselle outside the gates. She emerged with her satchel stuffed with books and a straw boater on her head.
    “Shall we?” she said, and I found myself walking beside her to the boulevard, passing laced-up ladies with parasols and dogs on leashes, gentlemen in bowler hats and gold fob chains slung from vests, and tired governesses with protesting charges in tow. Any of them might know Mutti. Despite its proximity to Berlin, Schöneberg was still a garrison town, where the kaiser barracked his troops. Everyone knew everyone else. I kept my face lowered under my cap, hoping my uniform would hide my identity. To my relief, no one paid us particular mind, the men doffing their hats and the ladies murmuring their guten Tags .
    “Let’s have a coffee.” Mademoiselle stopped at a corner café, takingone of the outdoor marble-topped tables. As I perched opposite her, I realized that in daylight, she was even lovelier than in the classroom, her hazel eyes flecked with green, her lips as pink as the ribbon on her hat. A few stray hairs from her chignon clung to her cheek. I had to clench my hands in my lap to stop myself from reaching over to peel them off her skin.
    She ordered. The waiter frowned. “Coffee for the fräulein?”
    “How silly of me.” She laughed. “Marlene, would you prefer a chocolate or a lemonade?”
    “No, thank you.” I straightened my back. “Coffee is fine.”
    I’d never had coffee. Mutti drank tea. Proper ladies only drank tea. Regardless of its popularity, according to Mutti, coffee was a foreign predilection that soured one’s breath.
    While we waited to be served, Mademoiselle sighed and removed her boater, running her fingers through her hair, causing more strands to