To see all 228 rooms of the lavish hotel, the bride would have missed her own wedding. She hurries only where her feet take her, to the light from the high windows and the crystal chandeliers. Here she stops by an ornate lamp resembling a cluster of beautiful berries, twirls to the rhythm of the music in the ballroom and theatre, and, if she feels like it, lays her head on the carpet. Behind her pink eyelids, she dreams of who knows what, perhaps of her chosen one, perhaps of a wedding bouquet with blue leaves, perhaps of a ring in the shape of a flower created by the magical jewellery designer Janja.

A hundred years ago, Franz Joseph I himself was supposed to take a bath in the marble-lined bathroom of the imperial suite; now Loreto is carelessly adorning herself there, and the stern Queen marches to and fro behind the cut mirror. She keeps time on a broken clock so the bride can make it to the altar. A silvery river winds beneath the hotel; in Lewis Carroll's tale, a golden gondola, driven by the White Rabbit, might come after it. But we're still at the Pupp Hotel in the heart of Carlsbad, so stop dreaming, Loreto, the wedding bells are ringing and the guests are waiting!