The Nightingale - Page 120
She spun to face him. “Where’s your whip, Herr Captain?”
“You were there?”
“How does it feel to whip a Frenchwoman?”
“You can’t think I would do that, Madame. It sickens me.”
“And yet there you were.”
“As were you. This war has put us all where we do not want to be.”
“Less so for you Germans.”
“I tried to help her,” he said.
At that, Vianne felt the rage go out of her; her grief returned. He had tried to save Rachel. If only they had listened to him and kept her hidden longer. She swayed. Beck reached out and steadied her.
“You said to hide her in the morning. She was in that terrible cellar all day. By afternoon, I thought … everything seemed normal.”
“Von Richter adjusted the timetable. There was a problem with the trains.”
The trains.
Rachel waving good-bye.
Vianne looked up at him. “Where are they taking her?”
It was the first substantive question she’d ever asked him.
“To a work camp in Germany.”
“I hid her all day,” Vianne said again, as if it mattered now.
“The Wehrmacht aren’t in control anymore. It’s the Gestapo and the SS. They’re more … brutes than soldiers.”
“Why were you there?”
“I was following orders. Where are her children?”
“Your Germans shot Sarah in the back at the frontier checkpoint.”
“Mein Gott,” he muttered.
“I have her son. Why wasn’t Ari on the list?”
“He was born in France and is under fourteen. They are not deporting French Jews.” He looked at her. “Yet.”
Vianne caught her breath. “Will they come for Ari?”
“I believe that soon they will deport all Jews, regardless of age or place of birth. And when they do, it will become dangerous to have any Jew in your home.”
“Children, deported. Alone.” The horror of it was unbelievable, even after what she’d already seen. “I promised Rachel I’d keep him safe. Will you turn me in?” she asked.
“I am not a monster, Vianne.”
It was the first time he’d ever used her Christian name.
He moved closer. “I want to protect you,” he said.
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