Agnes Braun was watching her from the mezzanine floor, her interlaced hands resting over her sunken abdomen. Something about the way she was smiling disturbed Magdalena. It was as if she could read her mind, probing and widening the cracks in her soul until the very core of Magdalena’s being seemed to shake with fear.

“I need to go to them,” said Magdalena, steeling herself.

Agnes shook her head slowly.

“The first floor patients no longer fall within your remit,” she said, not unkindly. “From now on I will assign you different duties, more suitable for someone with your temperament.”

Magdalena’s hand gripped the marble banister. She was sure that her fingers were even colder than the dead stone beneath them.

“Patients?” she exclaimed. “I need to go to them,” she repeated, more forcefully this time.

Agnes’s smile vanished.

“This School has treated you like family, Magdalena. It won’t do to bite the hand that feeds you.”

“I don’t want to bite anything, I just want to help them.”

Agnes raised her face to the sky, and the curve of her chin in the air was like a crescent moon.

“Is that not why we are all here?” she asked.

Magdalena took a deep breath.

“The things we do to them don’t help. They’re . . . weird,” she said. “This is not what they need. We should—”

Agnes Braun listened impassively to Magdalena’s misgivings.

“What we do here is to apply certain medical principles,” she replied calmly. “Who are you to question a scientific procedure?”

Magdalena didn’t reply. She realized they were no longer alone in the room. The rest of the School’s staff was now gathered in the entrance hall, watching with stern looks her attempt to defy the Rules.

“Do any of the subjects display the signs of physical abuse?” said Agnes.

Magdalena looked at her.

“No, Mrs. Braun.”

“Do we not provide them with generous meals and perfectly hygienic conditions?”

Magdalena concealed her bitterness.

“Yes, Mrs. Braun.”

“Then, for the love of God, what are we even talking about?”

It sounded like she had given this speech before. Magdalena could see, now, that she must have grown used to manipulating people’s minds.

“There is one thing missing, Nurse Braun. Love,” she said.

For the first time since Magdalena had met her, Agnes looked genuinely surprised.

“Seclusion can have unexpected effects on those who aren’t used to it,” she replied. “I worry about the strain on your nerves. Go to your room and rest. We won’t need you today.”

Magdalena’s gaze sought out the cook and one of the orderlies, but there wasn’t the faintest trace of sympathy in their eyes. Marie was watching from behind the kitchen door, her apron soaked with dishwater.

“Magdalena,” said Agnes again, with chilling composure. “Go.”