The Russlander Read Online Free PDF

Gerhard in the middle. The Sudermann sister cousins and Lydia, being the tallest, formed the back row of their choir.
    The reflection of lit candles on the Christmas tree quavered in the glass front of a cabinet across the room. Shelves inside the honey-coloured cabinet were laden with Aganetha and Abram’s wedding china, pieces which Katya had held to admire, how each rose pattern was slightly different, the gold inscription of their names, and date ofmarriage. Behind locked doors, shelves held chests of silverware, boxes of candles wrapped in tissue, silver candle holders, mono-grammed napkins and table linens that smelled of lavender. Linens such as the damask cloth that covered the dining table in the centre of the room, a table which was usually spread with a velvet cloth. On the table were small wooden plates, each holding an orange, a scattering of mints, and a chocolate. Silver coins for the adults, spin tops, tiny mirrors, mittens, and stockings for the children.
    â€œAll together, pay attention. Watch me,” Helena Sudermann whispered. She raised her arm, the fabric darkened at the armpit by a circle of sweat. She waited for their attention to turn from the people in the room, from the wooden plates, from the toes of their stocking feet, to her face, which strained with expectancy. If we’re going to do this, then we’ll do it right, yes?
    Kling Glöckchen – klinge linge ling
, Ring, little bells, ring, everyone around Katya sang, while she thought that perhaps she was partly to blame that they faced the uncertainty of a new teacher and his ways. She, along with everyone else, should not have called Helena Moustache-Len. Now they were paying for it. Time would tell how much. In the front row, Sara lifted the hem of her dress and flapped it in time to their music, making the adults smile.
Lasst mich ein, ihr Kinder
, is so cold the winter.
Öffnet mir die Turen
, don’t let me freeze to death. Ring, little bells, ring, they sang as
Lehrer
Pauls stood in the doorway listening, as if undecided whether or not he should come into the dining room.
    â€œLook, there’s our new teacher,” she whispered to Greta, who nodded as she sang; yes, she knew.
    His reddish-blond hair and sharp features were what had reminded her of a fox. He was wary and anxious looking, and moved aside quickly whenever the Wiebe sisters and Sophie entered the room with platters of cookies and left again. Fearing that he was in the way, she knew. But as they sang he turned an ear to listen,nodding as though counting beats, already becoming their tutor.
    While they’d lined up to sing, Abram Sudermann had entered the room in a bustle with his brothers, each one wearing a dark vested suit and a cowboy hat, bringing with them the smell of tobacco and a rich odour of fermented cherries. He had taken his chair at the head of the table, set his hat on the floor beside it, his brothers sitting on either side of him doing the same. David had come without a jacket, and with the sleeves of his shirt rolled to the elbows. He’d chosen not to wear his cowboy hat, but carried it with him. He’d also chosen not to sit with his brothers at the table, but had found Katya’s father and gone to stand with him and the other workers, those who lived at Privol’noye and didn’t return to their homes in nearby villages at the end of a work day, or for holidays.
    The workers and their children stood on two sides of the room, their feet barely touching the fringed border of the blue and gold Persian carpet, the children’s eyes reflecting the lights of the chandelier hanging above the table. Although her parents were not standing with the Sudermanns, Katya didn’t think of them as being among the workers, either. Her mother had parted her light brown hair at the centre and gathered it at the back of her head with ivory combs. She held her chin high, her graceful neck framed by the lace collar of a