The child wanted to say yes, but she didn’t manage it.

‘The grave is well kept-up,’ said Frau Adriani. ‘I see to that. We visit the churchyard every fortnight, to do our duty. And the grave is well tended, I supervise that, I’m responsible.’

‘That’s fine . . .’ said the Princess. ‘And I’ve brought something along for you as well, a doll! There! And do you play nicely with the other girls?’

The child looked up anxiously and took the doll; her eyes darkened, she swallowed, swallowed again, then suddenly let her head drop and began to cry. It was heart-rending. Her crying transformed everything. Frau Adriani leapt up and took her by the hand.

‘You’d better go back upstairs now . . . you’ve had enough of this! Your mother’s sent you her love, and . . .’

‘Just a minute!’ I said, ‘Ada, if you ever have something important you want to tell your Mummy, remember, we’re staying at Castle Gripsholm!’

‘Nobody’s telling anybody anything important here,’ said Frau Adriani loudly, and went with the girl to the door. ‘Come on you – get a move on! – what needs telling will be told by me – and just you remember that . . .’ She carried on talking outside, we heard her scolding, but we couldn’t make out any more of it.

‘Shall I . . .’

‘Don’t row with her,’ said the Princess, ‘the child would only suffer as a result. We’ll telephone Zurich, and then we’ll see!’ We got up.

Frau Adriani came back, very red in the face.

‘Now let me tell you something,’ she shouted. ‘If you dare to show your faces round here again, I’ll call the police! It’s none of your business, you understand! It’s outrageous! Get out of my house this instant! Don’t ever darken my door again! And don’t try snooping around here either – I’ll . . . I’ll have to get a dog,’ she said, as though to herself. ‘I’ll write and tell Frau Collin what sort of people she’s got herself – where’s that letter anyway?’

I motioned to the Princess with my eyes, nobody answered, and we walked slowly towards the front door. I sensed the woman becoming ever so slightly unsure of herself.

‘Where . . . where’s that letter?’

We didn’t speak, we didn’t say goodbye, she had taken care of that already, we went out without saying anything. Threats? Making threats is a sign of weakness. We hadn’t talked to Zurich yet.

When the woman saw that we were already at the front door, she started screeching uninhibitedly; we heard some hurried footsteps on the stone floor of the cellar below, the maids had assembled to listen.