The Nightingale
“Oui, Madame.”
“Billet? You? A man? A Nazi? No. No.” Isabelle shook her head. “No.”
The captain’s smile neither faded nor fell. “You were to town,” he said, looking at Isabelle. “I saw you when we arrived.”
“You noticed me?”
He smiled. “I am sure every red-blooded man in my regiment noticed you.”
“Funny you would mention blood,” Isabelle said.
Vianne elbowed her sister. “I am sorry, Captain. My young sister is obstinate on occasion. But I am married, you see, and my husband is at the front, and there is my sister and my daughter here, so you must see how inappropriate it would be to have you here.”
“Ah, so you would rather leave the house to me. How difficult that must be for you.”
“Leave?” Vianne said.
“I believe you aren’t understanding the captain,” Isabelle said, not taking her gaze from him. “He’s moving into your home, taking it over, really, and that piece of paper is a requisition order that makes it possible. And Pétain’s armistice, of course. We can either make room for him or abandon a home that has been in our family for generations.”
He looked uncomfortable. “This, I’m afraid, is the situation. Many of your fellow villagers are facing the same dilemma, I fear.”
“If we leave, will we get our home back?” Isabelle asked.
“I would not think so, Madame.”
Vianne dared to take a step toward him. Perhaps she could reason with him. “My husband will be home any day now, I imagine. Perhaps you could wait until he is here?”
“I am not the general, alas. I am simply a captain in the Wehrmacht. I follow orders, Madame, I do not give them. And I am ordered to billet here. But I assure you that I am a gentleman.”
“We will leave,” Isabelle said.
“Leave?” Vianne said to her sister in disbelief. “This is my home.” To the captain she said, “I can count on you to be a gentleman?”
“Of course.”
Vianne looked at Isabelle, who shook her head slowly.
Vianne knew there was no real choice. She had to keep Sophie safe until Antoine came home, and then he would handle this unpleasantness. Surely he would be home soon, now that the armistice had been signed. “There is a small bedroom downstairs. You’ll be comfortable there.”
The captain nodded. “Merci, Madame. I will get my things.”
* * *
As soon as the door closed behind the captain, Isabelle said, “Are you mad? We can’t live with a Nazi.”
“He said he’s in the Wehrmacht. Is that the same thing?”
“I’m hardly interested in their chain of command. You haven’t seen what they’re willing to do to us, Vianne. I have. We’ll leave. Go next door, to Rachel’s. We could live with her.”
“Rachel’s house is too small for all of us, and I am not going to abandon my home to the Germans.”
To that, Isabelle had no answer.
Vianne felt anxiety turn to an itch along her throat. An old nervous habit returned. “You go if you must, but I am waiting for Antoine. We have surrendered, so he’ll be home soon.”
“Vianne, please—”
The front door rattled hard. Another knock.