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Updated: June 4, 2025
After supper Frau Brechenmacher packed four of the five babies to bed, allowing Rosa to stay with her and help to polish the buttons of Herr Brechenmacher's uniform. Then she ran over his best shirt with a hot iron, polished his boots, and put a stitch or two into his black satin necktie. "Rosa," she said, "fetch my dress and hang it in front of the stove to get the creases out.
She imagined that all these people were laughing at her, more people than there were in the room even all laughing at her because they were so much stronger than she was. ... They walked home in silence. Herr Brechenmacher strode ahead, she stumbled after him.
"Na, it's over now," said Frau Rupp, stretching her fat hands over the table and regarding her three mourning rings with intense enjoyment; "but one must be careful, especially at a wedding." "And such a wedding as this," cried Frau Ledermann, who sat on the other side of Frau Brechenmacher. "Fancy Theresa bringing that child with her.
Isn't that true, my dear?" Frau Brechenmacher saw her husband among his colleagues at the next table. He was drinking far too much, she knew gesticulating wildly, the saliva spluttering out of his mouth as he talked. "Yes," she assented, "that's true. Girls have a lot to learn." Wedged in between these two fat old women, the Frau had no hope of being asked to dance.
"Na, what is it all for?" she muttered, and not until she had reached home, and prepared a little supper of meat and bread for her man did she stop asking herself that silly question. Herr Brechenmacher broke the bread into his plate, smeared it round with his fork and chewed greedily. "Good?" she asked, leaning her arms on the table and pillowing her breast against them. "But fine!"
Herr Brechenmacher strode up and down the kitchen, was helped on with his coat, then waited while the Frau lighted the lantern. "Now, then finished at last! Come along." "The lamp, Rosa," warned the Frau, slamming the front door behind them. Snow had not fallen all day; the frozen ground was slippery as an icepond.
After all, she reflected, if she had to go to bed at half past eight she would keep the shawl on. Which resolution comforted her absolutely. "Now, then, where are my clothes?" cried Herr Brechenmacher, hanging his empty letter-bag behind the door and stamping the snow out of his boots. "Nothing ready, of course, and everybody at the wedding by this time. I heard the music as I passed.
He was selling shirt buttons I bought some myself, and they were beautiful shirt buttons but what a pig of a fellow! I can't think what he saw in such a plain girl but you never know. Her mother says she's been like fire ever since she was sixteen!" Frau Brechenmacher looked down at her beer and blew a little hole in the froth.
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