This was for show: surely Itten had heard about the Bath-house. I’d be surprised if the Director himself hadn’t cautioned Itten with what he was allowed to do with the students now. No more private conferences; no more fasts.

‘Yes,’ Jenö said.

Over the class I kept on trying to catch Charlotte’s eye, but she was deep in the exercise. We had an hour to make a new form from several sheets of newspaper. After yesterday’s preparations I had decided on a boat: it was a shape that best exploited the material’s properties. Everyone worked noiselessly. Even Elena, Hannah and Eve – whom we called the Three Graces – were quieter than usual, fashioning, in turn, an African-style hat, a blazer, and a big chunky necklace.

The Master roamed the classroom, commenting on the newspaper’s materiality and its uncommon strength. ‘Fold it six times and it’s impossible to rip. Roll it up and bend it in two’ – he flashed a look at Jenö – ‘and it could kill a man.’

Afterward, he dismissed all of our creations – boats, hats, and aeroplanes – in favour of Gerhard’s simple construction: he’d simply stood the paper on its edges. ‘There it is!’ Itten shouted in delight, which made the whole class simultaneously stop and also give up. ‘Look! A material stiff and yet pliable enough it can stand where it’s narrowest. The rest of it’ – his look took in our vehicles and jewels – ‘is just junk.’

My boat belonged in the bin.

‘Better luck next time,’ Irmi said. ‘Mine’s useless too.’

I felt a pang for whatever compliment Ernst might throw me for an oiled moon.

‘Attention please,’ Itten was saying. ‘For next week’s figuration class, I want everyone to have drawn someone else, full length. The body does not stop at the torso, oh no, and you may paint them in as many – or as few! – clothes as you choose, in any medium you choose. We’ll be looking at the human form. The Bauhaus is not always about the will to abstraction. We must also give in to the caprices of the organic.’

There were smiles all round. This would be something at which I could excel. Steiner’s studio had proved this, and in turn I could prove to Charlotte that the two disciplines might yet be complementary. ‘Disassemble, please.’

There was never any wastage at the Bauhaus; everyone unfolded their newspapers and packed the sheets away. I smiled as Elena hid her necklace in her bag. Sometimes, there were little rebellions like this; sometimes, we did not do as we were told.

As I filed the newspapers in the storeroom I overheard Kaspar talking to Irmi. ‘Jenö was caught doing this before, you know. In Munich. It’s why his parents pay for his art school. To keep him out of trouble.’