Her English was quite good and she went on to tell us about the aims of the hospital.
“I share the views of your own Miss Nightingale,” she said.
“Too little is done to cure the sick. We are pioneers here. Our aim is to arouse people’s consciences to the need to look after the sick and heal them if possible. We I have had some approval for what we are doing and are visited I now and then by doctors from other countries. We have had them from your own country. They are interested in our “I methods. I think we are making a little progress. We are all overworked here and you will find living far from luxurious. “
“We did not expect anything else,” I said.
“Our patients demand a great deal of time. There is little leisure, and when there is we are far from towns.”
“You have the beautiful forests and the mountains.”
She nodded.
“We shall see,” she said, and I knew that she, like the Deaconess who had brought us in, did not expect us to stay.
It was not easy. I was amazed that Henrietta accepted it. With me, it was different. I wanted hard work; I wanted forgetfulness; and to find myself in unusual circumstances was of great benefit to me.
We lived like Spartans. We had expected to work hard but not quite so persistently. We were required to do whatever was needed. I was struck by the cleanliness of the ward. The bed linen had to be washed by us and we must scrub the floors. We arose at five in the morning and were often working hard until seven in the evening, until, said Henrietta, the patients were tucked up in their beds. It was a religious order and when we had finished our work we assembled for a reading from the Bible, prayers and the singing of hymns. During the first week I was so exhausted at the end of the day that I went to bed, where I sank into delicious sleep and did not wake until the rising bell. In a way it reminded me of school.
Meals were taken in a long hall with whitewashed walls and we sat at a long table where we all had our places to which we were expected to keep.
Breakfast was just before six o’clock and usually consisted of rye bread and a drink which I believed was made of ground rye. It was peasant food. We served the patients’ food at eleven o’clock and assembled in the hall at twelve to have ours. There was broth, vegetables, and a little meat or fish.
We had a few hours off duty now and then, and after the first week when we were too tired to do anything but lie on our beds and talk desultorily we would walk down to the edge of the lake and sit there listening to the sound of the breeze in the pines; even though we were accustomed to the hard work by that time, all we wanted to do was sit and rest. I felt extraordinarily at peace.
Sometimes, as we sat there, people would pass on the way to the village which was only about a quarter of a mile away from the hospital. Most of the people had a few animals cows mostly and many of them did embroidery on dresses and blouses which were sold in the shops in the towns. The woodcutter would walk by with his axe over his shoulder and call a greeting to us. They all knew who we were and respected us as the nurses of Kaiserwald and they showed us the utmost courtesy.
It was a long time since I had felt so happy.
Best of all I loved the work in the ward. It was a long room with bare whitewashed walls and at each end there was a large crucifix. The beds were close together and there was a curtain across the room dividing the men’s section from that of the women. The doctors worked constantly and I think they had a mild contempt for the nurses and particularly Henrietta and myself, for they knew that we were not working for a e of nursing. No doubt they thought we were ladies indulging in a light-hearted adventure to relieve the boredom of our useless lives.
This attitude irritated me far more than it did Henrietta. I was determined to show them that I was not playing at being a nurse. I knew that I had a special flair for this kind of work and I was gratified when one of the patients had an attack of hysterics and no one could calm her not even the doctors but myself. I think their feelings towards me changed after that and even the Head Deaconess became interested in me.
“Some are born nurses,” she told us.
“Some acquire the necessary skills. You are in the former class.” It was the biggest accolade she could bestow, and if she were anxious about a patient she would often put me in charge of that particular one. I was greatly encouraged and threw myself into the work and was happy to be there.
I often wondered about Henrietta. I think at times she felt less enchanted. But she could see I was in my element and she was glad of that.
“I feel half dead,” she said to me one day when we sat stretched out before the lake.
“But I remind myself that it is all in a good cause.
It has to be endured because it is all part of the great goal. It is going to lead us to the Demon King. “
That was what she called the man I had determined to find. She would invent stories of his wickedness; she sketched how he would look. A picture emerged dark, heavy-udded, brooding eyes, black hair and a wicked, satanic expression.
One afternoon, when we both had a free hour, as we sat by the lake’s edge, a slim figure emerged from the trees. It was Gerda the Goosegirl.
My German had improved considerably since my coming to Kaiserwald, for that language was spoken all the time apart from the occasional remarks addressed to us by the Head Deaconess and the one who had met us when we arrived; and even Henrietta, who had less than I, was able to converse, albeit rather haltingly.
I said “Hello’ to Gerda and then: ” Where are your geese? “
“All taken care of,” she replied.
“So I can be by myself now.”
She came and stood close to us, smiling to herself as though she found us rather amusing.
“You’re English ladies,” she said.
“And you’re a little German girl.”
“I am a lady, too.”
“I am sure you are.”
“I walk in the forest. Do you walk in the forest?”
“We don’t have a great deal of time for walking. But it must be lovely in the forest, to walk under the trees.”
She stepped near to us.
“The trees come alive at night,” she said. She had a strong faraway look in her eyes as though she saw something which was hidden from us.
“There are trolls … They live on the hills.”
“Have you seen them?” asked Henrietta.
She nodded.
“They pull at your dress. They try to catch you. You must never look into their eyes. If you do, they will catch you.”
“You have never looked into a troll’s eyes, then?” I said.
She lifted her shoulders and giggled.
“Have you seen the Devil?” she asked. She called him Der Teufel.
“No. Have you?”
She started to laugh and shrugged her shoulders.
I said: “You live with your grandmother, don’t you?”
She nodded.
“In a little house on the edge of the woods?”
She nodded again.
“And you look after the geese and the chickens … and what else have you?”
“A cow. Two goats.”
“They must keep you busy.”
She nodded.
“It was in the forest. It was the Devil.”
“Oh … did you meet him?”
“He liked me.”
She started to giggle again.
Henrietta yawned but I was interested in this strange girl and I wondered what went on in her hazy mind.
Henrietta had risen.
“Look at the time. We’ll be late.”
I said: “Goodbye, Gerda.”
“Goodbye,” she said and stood staring after us as we went.