The library was sunny, with the drapes pulled wide, giving out onto a lovely view of the formal gardens beyond, running down to the edge of the lake. He moved to the windows and began tugging the drapes shut; one of them refused to close and he abandoned it, stepping back, instead, from its view. It was odd how, in the quiet of the huge book-lined room, the steady drone of the planes above seemed almost peaceful; they might have been a local flying club out for an afternoon’s sport, or a particularly large swarm of bees investigating the roses. Even the dull booming coming from the center of the city to the north did not appear threatening, but more like a fireworks at a festival fair.
It was all too appallingly sudden, he thought desperately. We have not been permitted the time to appreciate its true horror or its terrifying reality. To us, in our shock, it is still playacting, simply because it cannot and must not be what it really is. In the evening, when the warm September sun has set, it will prove to have been for our entertainment, rather than our destruction; and the characters will wipe the grisly greasepaint from their furrowed faces and then go home; and the ruins will cease to smoke and will spring back up, possibly even refurbished; and the dead will climb smilingly to their feet and return, perhaps even a bit reluctantly, to the weary business of their everyday lives.
He turned from the somnolent and falsely peaceful view offered by the recalcitrant drape, and began making the rounds of the room restlessly. The murmur of voices from the drawing room beyond could still be heard faintly. The door of the library opened suddenly, unexpectedly, frighteningly, but before he could react to the shock of panic and try to seek some sort of shelter, he saw with relief that it was unnecessary. Jadzia had come into the room and was moving with that purposeful, boyish stride of hers toward the desk before the fireplace, lightly humming a tune; it struck him as odd in view of the tragedy of the day. She paused, the tune fading, surprised at finding the drapes closed, and then swung about. He saw her blanch at sight of him, catch her breath, and then hastily return to close the door and bolt it. He frowned curiously as he walked toward her.
“Darling; what’s the matter?”
“Mietek! You fool! What are you doing here?” His arms went out to her but she stepped back, her green eyes furious. “Keep your hands off me! You have to get out of here at once! Mietek! Are you listening to me?”
Mietek. Mietek Janeczek. After fifteen years it was even difficult to remember one’s own name. Certainly, today it was extremely doubtful if he would look up at hearing it called out in a restaurant or on the street, or pay particular attention at hearing it mentioned on the radio. Still, there was no denying it had been the name he had been born with, had grown up with. Mietek Janeczek — even the name sounded strange, but no more strange than the picture of that young, innocent, foolish boy who carried it...
Despite the rebuff and the tenseness of the moment, he could not help but feel a tendency to smile. He had seen Jadzia in her furies before, although never one directed at himself. It always struck him as comical to see a beautiful girl in her late teens so angry as to stamp her tiny foot. She looks like a small child deprived of a favorite toy, he thought; or a sleek cat of its dinner.
Jadzia gripped his arm with a strength he had never witnessed nor suspected before. “Stop your idiotic grinning! Mietek, listen to me! You have to leave here at once, do you hear?”
His smile faded; he shook his head as much in bafflement at her attitude as in denial of her demand. “You don’t understand, my darling. I came here to see Stefan, but he’s busy. The students have formed a defense committee, and we need money for arms. We—”
“You are a fool!” She stared at him as if amazed he could be so youthfully naïve. “You come to a Hochmann for help? Do you know who is in the drawing room with Stefan? Wilhelm Gruber!”
Wilhelm Gruber... Now that he recalled, it was the first time he had heard the name, but certainly not the last. Gruber, the monster; Gruber, the unspeakable; Gruber, the animal; Gruber, the vicious, murdering...! Not now, the man in the chair instructed himself harshly; this is no time to indulge yourself in the luxury of hate.
He locked his big fingers and squeezed with all his strength, bringing pain, and then released his grip, forcing himself to relax. Go on with the memories and get them over with. Unless André is mistaken — and I doubt it — I think I know at long last where Wilhelm Gruber is...
His eyebrows rose. “And who the devil is Wilhelm Gruber?”
“He’s been appointed S.S. Oberfuehrer for this district, and he’s going to use this house as his headquarters. He’s a very big man in the Party. And handsome, too, if you want to know. His staff will be arriving at any minute. If you’re found here—” her voice hardened “—everyone will suffer...”
“Suffer?”
“Mietek, don’t be a stubborn fool! The soldiers are looking for you. I heard them talking about it just now.”
His surprise deepened into a queer sense of unreality. “Why should the soldiers be looking for me?”
“Don’t pretend!” Jadzia was beginning to get seriously angry. “A German sergeant was shot and killed in Kielce this morning, by a civilian. Stefan heard the description of the killer; several other soldiers saw it happen. Stefan told Colonel Gruber it sounded very much like you.”
“I don’t believe you!” The air of unreality thickened; he seemed to see her pretty face through a haze. He reached out, locking his big fingers cruelly on her shoulder, glaring down into her large eyes, amazed at his anger at her, made all the fiercer because of her very desirability. “You’re lying! You’re lying! Stefan would never say anything like that about me!”
“You’re hurting me,” she said, almost curtly. Despite his anger his grip relaxed. She pulled herself away. “And keep your voice down! Did you kill that soldier?”
“Of course not! I wasn’t in Kielce; and you know how I feel about weapons! But what if I had? They’re the enemy, they invaded our country!” He ran his hand through his thick hair almost in desperation. “Why would Stefan say anything like that? Why?”
“You forget our name, Mietek.” Her voice was cold, but a touch of pride had entered it. “Hochmann is a German name, you know. And we are proud of it. Why shouldn’t he say so if you were guilty?”
He shook his head in bewilderment. “But you’re Poles!”
“Labels mean little today. The future means everything — and that lies with the Nazi Party.”
He stared at her, amazed at the adult tone, at the change in her. “I can’t believe it!”
“Whether you believe it or not, you have to leave. For everyone’s sake.” There was a peremptory tone to her voice, not the demanding request he might have expected from an imperious young girl, but the authoritative instruction of a much older person. Jadzia even looked different — older, sterner, triumphant somehow. What had happened to her in the short week since he had seen her last? What had happened to everything? The world had gone mad! He wet his lips.
“When will I see you again?”
Her eyes held his evenly. “I don’t know. Possibly never. Or possibly when this is all over. The Germans are going to win this war, and win it quickly. Only the fools in London think differently. In a month or less it will be over. We’re — they’re too strong; too prepared. They’ve been denied too long. Willi — Colonel Gruber says—” She caught her words, as if realizing she was wasting valuable time. “You have to leave. Now!”