She smiled, shrugging her shoulders slightly; she knew it was neither shyness nor coldness, but that profound, determined German patience-the patience of a wild animal waiting for its hypnotised prey to let itself be taken. "During the war," Bruno had said, "we spent a number of nights lying in wait in the Moeuvre forest. Waiting is erotic…" She had laughed at the word. It seemed less amusing now. What did she do now but wait? She waited for him. She wandered through these lifeless rooms. Another two hours, three hours. Then dinner alone. Then the sound of the key locking her mother-in-law's door. Then Marthe crossing the garden with a lantern to close the gate. Then more waiting, feverish and strange… and finally the sound of his horse neighing on the road, the clanking of weapons, orders given to the groom who walks away with the horse. The sound of spurs on the doorstep. Then the night, the stormy night, with its great gusts of wind in the lime trees and the thunder rumbling in the distance. She would tell him. Oh, she was no hypocrite, she would tell him in clear, simple French-that the prey he so desired was his. "And then what? Then what?" she murmured; a mischievous, bold, sensual smile suddenly transformed her expression, just as the reflection of a flame illuminating a face can alter it. Lit up by fire, the softest features can look demonic; they can both repel and attract. She walked quietly out of the room.
18
Someone was knocking at the kitchen door; they knocked shyly, softly; you could hardly hear it through the driving rain. Some kids wanting to get out of the storm, thought the cook. She looked out and saw Madeleine Sabarie standing on the doorstep, holding a dripping-wet umbrella. Marthe looked at her for a moment, astonished; people from the farms hardly ever came into the village except on Sundays for High Mass.
"What's going on? Come inside, quickly. Is everything all right at home?"
"No, something terrible's happened," Madeleine whispered. "I need to speak to Madame right away."
"Lord Jesus! Something terrible? Do you want to speak to Madame Angellier or Madame Lucile?"
Madeleine hesitated. "Madame Lucile. But be quiet… I don't want that awful German to know I'm here."
"The officer? He's away at the requisitioning of the horses. Sit down by the fire; you're soaking wet. I'll go and get Madame."
Lucile was alone, finishing her dinner. She had a book open on the tablecloth in front of her. "Poor dear!" Marthe said to herself in a moment of sudden lucidity. "Is this the kind of life she should have? No husband for two years… And as for Madeleine… What terrible thing could have happened? Something to do with the Germans, that's for sure."
She told Lucile that someone was asking for her.
"Madeleine Sabarie, Madame. Something terrible's happened to her… She doesn't want anyone to see her."
"Show her in here. Is the German… Lieutenant von Falk home yet?"
"No, Madame. I'll hear his horse when he comes back. I'll warn you."
"Yes, good. Go on now."
Lucile waited, her heart pounding. Madeleine Sabarie entered the room, deathly pale and out of breath. The modesty and caution innate to country folk battled against her emotional turmoil. She shook Lucile's hand, mumbled "I'm not disturbing you, am I?" and "How are you?" as was the custom, then said very quietly, making a terrible effort to hold back her tears (because you just didn't cry in front of anyone, unless it was at someone's deathbed; the rest of the time you had to control yourself, to hide your pain-and indeed your pleasure-from others), "Oh, Madame Lucile! What should I do? I've come to ask your advice because we're… we're finished. The Germans came to arrest Benoît this morning."
"But why?" Lucile exclaimed.
"They said it was because he had a hunting rifle hidden away. Like everyone else, as you can imagine. But they didn't search anywhere else, just our place. Benoît said, 'Go ahead and look.' They did look and they found it. It was hidden in the hay in the cowshed. Our German, the one living with us, the interpreter, he was in the room when the men from Headquarters came back in with the gun and ordered my husband to go with them. 'Wait a minute,' Benoît said. 'That isn't my gun. It must be someone who lives around here who hid it so they could denounce me. Give it to me and I'll prove it to you.' He was talking so naturally that the men weren't suspicious. My Benoît takes the gun, pretends to be examining it and suddenly… Oh, Madame Lucile, the two bullets fired almost at the same time. One killed Bonnet and the other Bubi, the big Alsatian that was with him."
"I see," murmured Lucile, "I see."
"Then he jumps out of the window and runs off, the Germans right behind. But he knows the place better than them, as you can imagine. They haven't found him yet. The storm was so bad they couldn't see two steps in front of them, thank goodness. Bonnet's laid out on my bed, where they put him. If they find Benoît, they'll shoot him. He might have been shot for hiding a gun, but if that was all he'd done we could have hoped he'd get off. Now, well we know what to expect, don't we?"
"But why did he kill Bonnet?"
"He must be the one who denounced him, Madame Lucile. He lives with us. He could have found the gun. These Germans, they're all traitors. And that one… was chasing after me, you see… and my husband knew it. Maybe he wanted to punish him, maybe he said to himself, 'Might as well… then he won't be here to play up to my wife when I'm not around.' Maybe… And he really hated them, Madame Lucile. He was longing to kill one of them."
"They've been looking for him all day long, you say? You're absolutely sure they haven't found him yet?"
"I'm sure," said Madeleine after a moment's silence.
"Have you seen him?"
"Yes. This is life or death, Madame Lucile. You… you won't say a word?"
"Oh, Madeleine…"
"All right, then. He's hiding at Louise's place, our neighbour whose husband is a prisoner of war."
"They're going to turn the village upside down, they're going to look everywhere."
"Thank goodness they were requisitioning the horses today. All the officers are away. The soldiers are waiting for orders. Tomorrow they'll start the search. But Madame Lucile, farms have plenty of hiding places. They've had escaped prisoners right there under their noses plenty of times. Louise will hide him good, but it's just, well, it's her kids: the kids play with the Germans, they aren't afraid of them, and they talk, they're too little to understand. 'I know the chance I'm taking,' Louise told me. 'I'm doing it willingly for your husband, just like you would do it for mine, but nonetheless, it would be better to find another house where he could hide until he can get away from here.' They'll be watching all the roads now, won't they. But the Germans won't be here for ever. What we need is a big house where there aren't any children."
"Here?" Lucile said, staring at her.
"Here, yes, I thought…"
"You do know that a German officer lives here?"
"They're everywhere. But the officer hardly ever comes out of his room, does he? And I've heard… forgive me, Madame Lucile, I've heard he's in love with you and that you can do whatever you like. I'm not offending you, am I? They're men like the rest, I know, and they get bored. So if you said to him, 'I don't want your soldiers upsetting everything in the house. It's ridiculous. You know very well I'm not hiding anyone. First of all, I'd be too scared to…' Things that women can say… And in this house that's so big, so empty, it would be easy to find a hiding place, some little corner. And then there's a chance he'd be saved, the only chance. You might say that if you get caught, you risk going to prison, perhaps even being killed. With these brutes it's possible. But if we French don't help one another, who will? Louise, she has kids, she does, and she wasn't scared. You're all alone."