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had lasted only forty minutes. I’d get a scolding from Liesel, no doubt, but Mutti wouldn’t be back until nine at the earliest.
    “Ah, yes. I forgot. She’s in Dessau. Well, then. If you’re quite sure you’ll be safe?”
    “I am.” I began to curtsy, but she reached out and embraced me. She smelled of perspiration, with a faint trace of lavender water and coffee, and the acrid stink of the cabaret hall, which permeated her clothes. I melted against her. “ Merci, Mademoiselle.”
    “ Mais non, ma fille .” She cupped my chin in her hands, kissing both my cheeks. “You must call me Marguerite when we’re alone. Women with secrets must also be friends, oui ?”
    Swirling around, she walked away. As the shadows of the encroaching buildings darkened her passage, she half-turned, raising her hand. “ À bientôt, mon amie Marlene ! ”
    I didn’t want her to go. I might never bathe again, lest I erased her scent from my hands. On my way home, I kept lifting my palms to inhale her, ignoring the sharp chill in the air.
    Our warm July had forsaken us.
    I would never see Marguerite Bréguand again.

IV
    S he left,” Hilde said. We were sitting outside in the courtyard after Frau Becker had informed us there would be no French lesson today or in the foreseeable future. “I don’t know why.”
    Dismayed by Mademoiselle’s unexplained absence, I’d accosted Hilde, the thin, dark-haired girl who’d told me parfait meant “perfect” and longed to catch my eye. She leaped at the chance to be my confidante, but to my frustration, she didn’t seem to know anything that might shed light on this bewildering change in events.
    As we sat together while the other girls skipped rope, overjoyed to be free for the afternoon, I fingered the last marzipan in my pocket. I drew it out, handing it to Hilde. “Here.”
    “Oh.” She accepted it as if I’d offered her a pearl. “Thank you, Maria.”
    “Marlene,” I said, scouring the area for Mademoiselle. “My name is Marlene.”
    “It is? But I thought it was Maria . . . ? Marlene is such an odd name, but pretty, too.” She shrugged, munching on the marzipan.
    “You really haven’t heard anything?” I asked again. “How can she have just left? She was Madame’s replacement; it took weeks to hire her and she’s only been here a few weeks.”
    Hilde paused, considering. “Perhaps it has something to do with the war.”
    “War?” I stared at her. “There is no war.”
    “Not yet.” She took on the avid look of someone with important news, something her new friend didn’t know. “But there’ve been rumors about the kaiser declaring war against—” She frowned. “Well, I’m not sure against whom, but my father’s in the infantry and he wrote to my mother last week to tell us his regiment had been mobilized and war was imminent.”
    “Well, I’ve not heard anything about it,” I declared, with more certainty than I felt. I wouldn’t have. War could erupt in the very street outside our flat and unless the enemy came pounding at our door, Mutti would remain impervious.
    I dreaded the thought that someone had seen us together and reported Mademoiselle to our Schulleiterin, the headmistress. Keeping a student after hours to correct deficiencies was acceptable, but to take that student out for coffee and an excursion to the flickers—that would be grounds for dismissal. Had I been the unwitting cause of her mysterious disappearance?
    If so, I couldn’t sit here. “ Tu etwas ,” I said, and I bolted to my feet, grabbing my satchel.
    Hilde gaped at me, marzipan crumbs on her chin. “Where are you going?”
    “Out.” I was starting across the courtyard when Hilde yanked me back by my satchel strap. “Marlene, you can’t. The closing bell hasn’t rung yet. The gates are locked.”
    “ Dumme Kühe, ” I cursed. “Stupid cows. Is this a school or a prison?”
    “Both,” said Hilde, and I found myself smiling. Despite her ordinary appearance, she had