The Countess

One of my earliest memories of travelling was the train journey I took from Zurich to Bern with my friend Hans. Hans, I wonder what became of him.

My mother said he was leading me astray at school. She saw him as a kind of Lucignolo, with his carefree and cunning manner, but I liked him. And I didn't like that fairy tale about Pinocchio, the puppet. In our adventures at school and outside school, I felt free, unrestrained, and I could really be who I wanted to be. He was nothing like Lucignolo. With him, every outing was an experience.

That time we skipped school at the last minute. Hans had messed up with a girl, so he said to me, ‘You know what we'll do? Let's take a train and see where fate takes us! That trip didn't really lead to any great adventures, but it was great for the spirit that drove us home.

I remember that before getting on the train, I noticed a lady at the station, I think she was about 60 years old, tall, impeccably elegant, wearing a grey satin hat. She was followed by a couple of assistants to whom she gave orders with detached kindness, without rushing, to load her luggage. She was dressed a little like in the 1900s, with a high collar and a long, severe skirt. She wore jewellery on her hands and ears, which was quite striking.

As Hans and I got on the carriage, I noticed that she had loaded more than eight large bags. They were all strictly dark brown leather, bulging and shiny, obviously bought for the trip. And beautiful.

She was standing in the carriageway, busy getting her assistants to load all the luggage, but she moved away furtively when she saw us get into the carriage. She looked me up and down and I still remember her cold but youthful eyes piercing me like butter as I climbed the stairs. In those days, it was impossible for me to blush, but perhaps I felt a little embarrassed. Hans didn't notice anything, and we continued down the carriage corridor, looking for younger company.

I turned around one last time to see her and saw her standing in the corridor, still looking at me. I never understood what she was going through on that trip. A holiday? A move? Or just a visit to friends at their villa? That's all I remember about that day. But many years have passed.