Half an hour later when Noelle went on stage, she managed to put everything out of her mind but the character she was playing. It was an appreciative audience and as she took her curtain calls, she received a tremendous ovation. She could still hear the applause as she walked back to her dressing room and opened the door. Seated in a chair was General Hans Scheider. He rose to his feet as Noelle entered and said politely, "I was informed that we have a supper date this evening."
They had supper at Le Fruit Perdu along the Seine, about twenty miles outside of Paris. They had been driven there by the General's chauffeur in a shiny, black limousine. The rain had stopped, and the night was cool and pleasant. The General had made no reference to the day's incident until they had finished eating. Noelle's first impulse had been not to go with him, but she decided that it was necessary to learn how much the Germans really knew and how much trouble she might be in.
"I received a call from Gestapo headquarters this afternoon," General Scheider was saying. "They informed me that you told a Corporal Schultz that you were having supper with me this evening." Noelle watched him, saying nothing. He went on. "I decided that it would be most unpleasant for you if I said 'No,' and most pleasant for me if I said 'Yes.'" He smiled. "So here we are."
"This is all so ridiculous," Noelle protested. "Helping a poor man who stole some groc--"
"Don't!" The General's voice was sharp. Noelle looked at him in surprise. "Don't make the mistake of believing that all Germans are fools. And do not underestimate the Gestapo."
Noelle said, "They have nothing to do with me, General."
He toyed with the stem of his wine glass. "Colonel Mueller suspects you of having helped a man he wants very badly. If that is true, you are in a great deal of trouble. Colonel Mueller neither forgives nor forgets." He looked at Noelle. "On the other hand," he said carefully, "if you should not see your friend again, this whole thing could simply blow over. Would you like a cognac?"
"Please," Noelle said.
He ordered two Napoleon brandies. "How long have you been living with Armand Gautier?"
"I am sure you know the answer to that," Noelle replied.
General Scheider smiled. "As a matter of fact, I do. What I really wanted to ask you is why you refused to have dinner with me before. Was it because of Gautier?"
Noelle shook her head. "No."
"I see," he said stiffly. There was a note in his voice that surprised her.
"Paris is full of women," Noelle said. "I am sure you could have your pick."
"You don't know me," the General said quietly, "or you wouldn't have said that." He sounded embarrassed. "I have a wife and child in Berlin. I love them very much, but I have been away from them for more than a year now, and I have no idea when I will see them again."
"Who forced you to come to Paris?" Noelle asked cruelly.
"I was not making a bid for sympathy. I just wanted to explain myself a little. I am not a promiscuous man. The first time I saw you on the stage," he said, "something happened to me. I felt I wanted to know you very much. I would like us to be good friends."
There was a quiet dignity about the way he spoke.
"I can promise nothing," Noelle said.
He nodded. "I understand."
But of course he did not. Because Noelle intended never to see him again. General Scheider tactfully changed the conversation and they talked of acting and the theater, and Noelle found him surprisingly knowledgeable. He had an eclectic mind and a deep intelligence. Casually he ranged from topic to topic, pointing out the mutual interests that the two of them shared. It was a skillful performance and Noelle was amused. He had gone to a great deal of trouble to learn about her background. He looked every inch the German General in his olive-green uniform, strong and authoritative, but there was a gentleness that bespoke another kind of man altogether, an intellectual quality that belonged to the scholar rather than the soldier. And yet there was the scar running across his face.
"How did you get your scar?" Noelle asked.
He ran his finger along the deep incision. "I was in a duel many years ago," he shrugged. "In German, we call this wildfleisch--it means 'proud skin.' "
They discussed the Nazi philosophy.
"We are not monsters," General Scheider stated. "And we have no wish to rule the world. But neither do we intend to sit still and be punished any longer for a war we lost more than twenty years ago. The Treaty of Versailles is a bondage that the German people have finally broken out of."
They spoke of the occupation of Paris. "It was not the fault of your French soldiers that it was so easy for us," General Scheider said. "A good deal of the responsibility must fall on the shoulders of Napoleon the Third."
"You're joking," Noelle replied.
"I am perfectly serious," he assured her. "In the days of Napoleon, the mobs were constantly using the tangled, twisted streets of Paris for barricades and ambushes against his soldiers. In order to stop them, he commissioned Baron Eugene Georges Haussmann to straighten out the streets and fill the city with nice, wide boulevards." He smiled. "The boulevards down which our troops marched. I am afraid history will not be kind to planner Haussmann."
After dinner, driving back to Paris, he asked, "Are you in love with Armand Gautier?"
His tone was casual, but Noelle had the feeling that her answer was important to him.