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memorandum of the meeting. Finally he looked up at Moissac. “So you do not wish me to embarrass the religious ladies?”
    “It is not our custom to call them in civil or criminal matters,” Moissac said. Von Weber had asked him once to inform him on local custom.
    “Interesting,” the German murmured. He took off his glasses and polished them. “I had no intention of calling them and you know it. Whom were you trying to impress?”
    Moissac could feel himself coloring. “It seemed like a way of making peace, that was all.”
    Von Weber smiled. If he could not get the answer he wanted, he was content to embarrass a man. He put on his glasses again. “You don’t live in Old Town, do you, Moissac?”
    “I did for many years, Colonel. I was born on Rue de Michelet.”
    “That’s where we need to make peace if it’s to be made in St. Hilaire. Otherwise the whole district should be cleared out.”
    “What do you mean, cleared out?”
    “The Maquis breeds there, wouldn’t you say?”
    “Not the Maquis , Colonel. Not in St. Hilaire. We are a religious people.”
    “I keep forgetting that, don’t I? What was the incident with the convent ladies at the railway station?”
    “ Monsieur le Colonel is quickly informed,” Moissac ventured. He wondered how much Von Weber knew.
    “I overheard. That is why I wish to be informed now.”
    “Some sisters arriving from Normandy brought four children with them. Captain Mittag wished to detain the children.”
    “Why?”
    “Refugees. Their papers were questionable.”
    “Were they Jews?”
    “The nuns did not admit it.”
    “And they called on you to come to their aid.”
    “Yes, Colonel.”
    “Poor Moissac,” the German said. “You would think that if they had passed this far Captain Mittag would not have been so zealous.”
    Moissac said nothing.
    “Wouldn’t you?”
    “Yes, Colonel.”
    “Well. I am sure Monsignor La Roque will put in a soothing word on your behalf with the religious ladies. Or were the children given over to them?”
    “Three of them were. The male child was detained.”
    Von Weber smiled. “On your suggestion?”
    “Yes, Colonel.”
    “You have a genius for compromise, a true Frenchman.”
    “Thank you, Colonel.”
    Von Weber just stared at him. “These agricultural workers,” he said finally, “you will process them yourself?”
    “Yes, Colonel, but they have been screened already by request of the prefect of agriculture.”
    “The friend of the syndicate. Tell me about the syndicate.”
    “It is a group of large landowners. Most of the holdings are hereditary. They own certain machinery in common, and on a share basis they harvest also the smaller farms along the way. They dine together formally tomorrow night with the mayor—certain officials. It is a ceremony to begin the harvest season. And they feast the workers.”
    “Will you dine with them?”
    “I have not yet been invited,” Moissac said.
    Von Weber rubbed his hands together. “Then I was right. You were hoping to impress the prefect of agriculture with your defense of the religious ladies. He was present at the railway station. Isn’t it so? Ah, Moissac, Moissac, do not deny me the pleasure of knowing you. There are so few Frenchmen I can truly understand. Now. These harvesters—where do they come from?”
    “Mostly students, but this year there are not so many students. Flotsam and jetsam.”
    “Exactly. And yet one does not want Section Four interfering. It is I who must provide the grain quota, not Captain Mittag. I assume you understood my self-interest in the pacification program. Between ourselves, I will say the officer was right to shoot anyone who attacked him. But I can afford an officer if that is the price of the harvest. And I would rather work with a Frenchman than the Gestapo. After all, you too are an officer of the peace, wouldn’t you say?”
    “Yes, Colonel.”
    “Then see if you can use some of that genius for pacification in the Old