What she looked like, you want to know? Whether she had “black, black” oversized eyes and “white, white” skin, a slim, slim waist and a very voluptuous bosom?

No, you see, it wasn’t like that. She is no character from a novel, but rather a real-life person, and the color of her eyes is a mysterious gray-green.

Her face also wouldn’t be considered classically beautiful. Her dark brown curly hair exposes her young forehead, already marked by wrinkles, and the thick arches over her eyebrows. Yet it covers up her sunken temples, which bear witness to her lack of appetite. Her nose is wide on the top and runs fleshless and narrow toward a pair of constantly vibrating nostrils. Her chin is not prominent, but sympathetic, wide, and shows a lot of strength.

The young one is named Lora. Eighteen years old—now that’s youth, I tell you! Always cheerful. Always a joke and a tease on the tip of her tongue, always words, which men go after like bees after honey. She speaks freely, never pretends to be a shamefully embarrassed maiden, but rather speaks openly about everything in life that she has seen with her own eyes. Just imagine!

At the same time, she is so seamless in her demeanor that none of her suitors would ever allow himself to make the slightest advance. Not even the well-known stolen kiss in a dark corner of the ballroom.

Her parents don’t have to worry. There have already been a few proposals. Lora doesn’t want to, though—and, well, there’s no need to rush. It is also so nice having her at home. Her two younger sisters are quieter; they behave as though they are only there in order to applaud at Lora’s jokes. Grete, the youngest one, is sentimental and cries about everything. Amalie, the second youngest of the sisters, however, is the practical one. She always sits and counts every penny of her monthly allowance or organizes the clothes in her closet, in which everything is already neat anyway. One day she will certainly be a very good little housewife.