shoulder, as though to be sure no one was following her. Sam leapt to his feet, dropped a handful of coins on the table, and ran across the street, as she glanced up, startled. She looked as though she were going to bolt, and then held her ground with defiance. In occupied Paris, she had faced more ominous men than Sam, and she looked as though she were ready to face one more. But her eyes were more tired than angry this time when she faced him.
“ Bonjour , mademoiselle.” He looked more sheepish now than he had before, and she shook her head, like a mother scolding a schoolboy.
“ Pourquoi vous me poursuivez? ”
He had no idea what she had said, and this time hedidn't have Arthur to rely on, but she spoke more English than he had originally thought. She repeated her question to him in her gentle husky voice. “Why you do that?”
“I want to talk to you.” He spoke softly, as though caressing the graceful arms that shivered slightly in the cool night air. She had no sweater, only the ugly old blue dress.
She waved vaguely toward the people in the streets, as though offering them up instead. “Many girls in Paris … happy talking Americans.” Her eyes grew hard then. “Happy talking Germans, happy talking Americans …” He understood her.
“And you only speak to Frenchmen?”
She smiled and shrugged. “French people talk Germans too … Americans …” She wanted to tell him how France had betrayed itself, how ugly it had been, but there was no way to say all that with the little English she knew, and after all he was a stranger.
“What is your name? Mine is Sam.”
She hesitated for a long time, thinking he didn't need to know it, and then shrugged, as though talking to herself. “Solange Bertrand.” But she did not hold out her hand in introduction. “You go?” She looked at him hopefully and he gestured toward the cafe across the street.
“One cup of coffee, then I go? Please?”
For an instant, he thought she would get angry again, and then, her shoulders drooping for the first time, she seemed to hesitate.
“ Je suis très fatiguée. ” She pointed to the books. He knew she couldn't be going to school at the moment. Everything was disrupted.
“Do you go to school usually?”
“Teaching … little boy at home … very sick … tuberculose. ”
He nodded. Everything about her seemed noble. “Aren't you hungry?” She didn't seem to understand and he made the eating gesture again, and this time she laughed, showing beautiful teeth and a smile that made his heart do cartwheels.
“ D'accord … d'accord … ” She held up one hand, fingers splayed. “ Cinq minutes … five minute!”
“You'll have to drink fast and their coffee is pretty hot …” He felt as though he were flying as he took the string bag from her and led her across the street to the cafe. The owner greeted her as though he knew her, and seemed interested by the fact that she was there with an American soldier. She called him Julien and they chatted for a moment before she ordered a cup of tea, but she refused to order anything to eat until Sam ordered for her. He ordered some cheese and bread, and in spite of herself, she devoured it. He noticed then for the first time, how thin she was when he looked at her closely. The proud shoulders were mostly bones, and she had long graceful fingers. She sipped the hot tea carefully and seemed grateful for the steaming liquid.
“Why you do this?” She asked him after she had sipped the tea. She shook her head slowly. “ Je ne comprends pas. ”
He was unable to explain even to her why he felt so compelled to speak to her, but the moment he had laid eyes on her, he knew he had to.
“I'm not sure.” He looked pensive, and she seemed not to understand. He threw up his hands to show her he didn't know himself. And then he tried to explainit, touching his heart, and then his eyes. “I felt something different the first time I saw you.”
She seemed to disapprove and
“ Bonjour , mademoiselle.” He looked more sheepish now than he had before, and she shook her head, like a mother scolding a schoolboy.
“ Pourquoi vous me poursuivez? ”
He had no idea what she had said, and this time hedidn't have Arthur to rely on, but she spoke more English than he had originally thought. She repeated her question to him in her gentle husky voice. “Why you do that?”
“I want to talk to you.” He spoke softly, as though caressing the graceful arms that shivered slightly in the cool night air. She had no sweater, only the ugly old blue dress.
She waved vaguely toward the people in the streets, as though offering them up instead. “Many girls in Paris … happy talking Americans.” Her eyes grew hard then. “Happy talking Germans, happy talking Americans …” He understood her.
“And you only speak to Frenchmen?”
She smiled and shrugged. “French people talk Germans too … Americans …” She wanted to tell him how France had betrayed itself, how ugly it had been, but there was no way to say all that with the little English she knew, and after all he was a stranger.
“What is your name? Mine is Sam.”
She hesitated for a long time, thinking he didn't need to know it, and then shrugged, as though talking to herself. “Solange Bertrand.” But she did not hold out her hand in introduction. “You go?” She looked at him hopefully and he gestured toward the cafe across the street.
“One cup of coffee, then I go? Please?”
For an instant, he thought she would get angry again, and then, her shoulders drooping for the first time, she seemed to hesitate.
“ Je suis très fatiguée. ” She pointed to the books. He knew she couldn't be going to school at the moment. Everything was disrupted.
“Do you go to school usually?”
“Teaching … little boy at home … very sick … tuberculose. ”
He nodded. Everything about her seemed noble. “Aren't you hungry?” She didn't seem to understand and he made the eating gesture again, and this time she laughed, showing beautiful teeth and a smile that made his heart do cartwheels.
“ D'accord … d'accord … ” She held up one hand, fingers splayed. “ Cinq minutes … five minute!”
“You'll have to drink fast and their coffee is pretty hot …” He felt as though he were flying as he took the string bag from her and led her across the street to the cafe. The owner greeted her as though he knew her, and seemed interested by the fact that she was there with an American soldier. She called him Julien and they chatted for a moment before she ordered a cup of tea, but she refused to order anything to eat until Sam ordered for her. He ordered some cheese and bread, and in spite of herself, she devoured it. He noticed then for the first time, how thin she was when he looked at her closely. The proud shoulders were mostly bones, and she had long graceful fingers. She sipped the hot tea carefully and seemed grateful for the steaming liquid.
“Why you do this?” She asked him after she had sipped the tea. She shook her head slowly. “ Je ne comprends pas. ”
He was unable to explain even to her why he felt so compelled to speak to her, but the moment he had laid eyes on her, he knew he had to.
“I'm not sure.” He looked pensive, and she seemed not to understand. He threw up his hands to show her he didn't know himself. And then he tried to explainit, touching his heart, and then his eyes. “I felt something different the first time I saw you.”
She seemed to disapprove and
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