Echoes Read Online Free PDF Page A

naïve and still a child. And she assumed only the worst of Antoine.
    “I was just having tea on the terrace,” Beata said, looking upset. This had not gone well, and she didn't know what to say to Antoine. “We started speaking, about nothing in particular. He was very polite.”
    “How old is he? And what's he doing here instead of in the war?”
    “He's Swiss,” Beata said primly. That was something at least. She never lied to her mother, although Brigitte did frequently, and this was a first for her. But somehow seeing Antoine seemed worth any risk she had to take or any breach it involved. In a single afternoon he had won not only her loyalty but her heart.
    “Why wasn't he working? What's he doing loitering around a hotel?” As far as Monika was concerned, respectable men worked. They did not have time to hang around hotels at teatime, picking up young girls.
    “He's visiting, just as we are. He's here to see his family, because his grandfather just died.”
    “I'm sorry to hear it,” Monika said tersely, “and he may be a perfectly nice man, but he is a total stranger. We have not been properly introduced to him by anyone who knows us or him, and we are not going to have lunch with him.” And then as an afterthought, a few minutes later, “What's his name?”
    “Antoine de Vallerand.” Her mother's eyes met hers and held them in a viselike grip for a long time. She wondered if Beata had met him before, but there was nothing duplicitous about the girl. She was just young and foolish and naïve.
    “He's a nobleman,” her mother said quietly, her words full of reproach. And as such, he was not a suitable option for either of her daughters, no matter who he was. There were some lines one didn't cross, and that was one of them. Beata knew what she was thinking, her mother didn't have to spell it out. They were Jewish. He wasn't.
    “Is that a crime, being noble?” Beata said a little tartly, but as she looked at her mother, her eyes were sad, which worried her mother even more.
    “Have you ever met this man before?” In answer, Beata shook her head, as Brigitte bounced into the room with armloads of her purchases. She had had a wonderful time in the shops, although she thought they were better in Cologne. But at least here in Switzerland they had none of the obvious shortages of war. It was nice to get a break from all that.
    “What does he look like?” Brigitte asked, holding up a new black suede handbag and a beautiful pair of long white kid gloves. “Is he handsome?”
    “That's not the point,” Beata snapped at both of them. “He just seems like a very nice man, and he invited all three of us to lunch, which was very polite and kind.”
    “And why do you suppose he did that?” her mother asked with a look of disapproval. “Because he is dying to meet me and Brigitte? Of course not. He obviously wants to spend time with you. How old is this man?” All her suspicions were on high alert.
    “I don't know. Maybe around Ulm's age.” In fact, he was five years older, as she knew. It was the third lie she had told to protect him and their budding friendship. Spending time with Antoine seemed worth it to her. She wanted to see him again, even if it was with her mother and sister, if that was all she could do. She just wanted to spend a little more time with him. Who knew when and if they would meet again.
    “He's too old for you,” her mother said bluntly, when in fact her objections to him were in an entirely different vein. But she didn't want to voice them to Beata.
    She didn't want to give enough credence to this man's invitation to state what her real objections were, but Beata knew anyway. Other than being a total stranger, Antoine wasn't Jewish. Monika was not going to expose her daughters to handsome young men of the Christian faith. Jacob would have had her head for it, and she agreed unreservedly with him. There was no point letting this new acquaintance of Beata's go any further. She