sanity. You have to let me go, Claudine. You have to.’
‘No, Armand! Stop saying these things.’
‘Claudine, please think about what this is doing to me. I
can’t go on making love to you knowing that all the time
you’re thinking of him. You must try to accept that it’s
because you love and want him so desperately that you can’t
dispel him from your mind even when …’
‘That’s.not true,’ she said fiercely. ‘I’ve told you how
things were between us. He didn’t bother to hide his
distaste even at having to touch me.’
‘But was it so distasteful for you?’
She drew breath to speak, then lowered her eyes to her
hands. ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘Yes, it was.’
‘Look me in the eye and tell me that. Tell me that it was
you who brought that side of your marriage to an end.’
‘Does it matter which of us brought it to an end?’ she
cried. ‘The fact is, Francois loves someone else. He’s been
sleeping with Elise Pascale since before we were married!
He loves her so much that now he’s abandoned his own sob
and gone away to Germany with her! How can you believe I
could either want or love a man who has treated me like
that?’
Armand smiled. ‘Very easily,’ he said. ‘And perhaps now
is the time to tell you that he didn’t take Elise Pascale to
Germany with him as you suspect. In fact, his affair with her
is over.’
His words seemed to hit her a stultifying blow. Suddenly,
she felt as though every ounce of energy she possessed was
being wrung from her limbs. ‘How do you know that?’ she
breathed.
‘Louis told me, just after he received the letter from
Francois.’
‘Why didn’t he tell me?’
‘Because with Francois being in Germany, with the
future so uncertain, he though it would only make things
worse for you.’
They were strange, the feelings that were running amok
through her body. She felt dizzy, disoriented. Outwardly
she was calm, but inside the feelings were beating at her
heart, drumming at her mind. She must try to understand
what they were telling her.
He hadn’t taken her. He hadn’t taken Elise Pascale to
Germany, he had gone alone. But didn’t that only make it
worse? Because though he had given up his mistress, he had
still tried to give her, his wife, to another man. So ending his
liaison with Elise had made no difference at all. Still he
didn’t want her. And she would rather die than admit she
wanted him, even though every fibre of her body was crying
out for him.
Hardly knowing what she was doing, she got up from the
table and put a shaking hand on Armand’s shoulder.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I’m truly sorry - for everything.’
‘There’s
no need to be,’ he said, rising too and taking her
in his arms. ‘I’m just glad I was there for a while to ease your
loneliness.’
‘And I yours?’ she said.
‘Oh yes. You certainly did that. But now I feel more lonely
when I’m with you than I do when we’re apart.’ He pulled
her head from his shoulder and looked into her eyes. ‘Are
you ready to admit now that you love him?’
‘No,’ she said, shaking her head.
‘Why?’
‘Because I can’t. Because I can hardly think of him
without wanting to scream, or cry, or … I don’t know. I
don’t understand the way I feel. We’ve never shared even a
moment of affection, yet …’ She looked away. ‘I can’t,
Armand. It’s as if there’s something deep inside me, so deep
and so powerful that… I don’t know… All I know is that it
frightens me and that I’ve got to keep it buried.’
She moved away and went to stand at the window. ‘I knew
the day I married him the way I felt about him, but then I
thought, after the way he made love to me that night… He
was so cruel, so unfeeling, and yet, you’re right, the desire
didn’t go away. It’s never gone away. But I’ve tried to bury it,
along with the pain. It was the only way I knew how to
survive my marriage. He never wanted a wife, he made that
plain from the start, and he wanted me to despise him as he
despises me - so I did. Then, when I met you, and you were
so kind, so gentle and caring… I truly believed that it was
you I wanted, you I loved. But I suppose now, looking back,
that all I wanted, even then, was that Francois … That
seeing me with another man, he would …’
She shrugged, but there were tears on her cheeks. ‘He
didn’t care, though. His only concern was that the child I
was carrying was his. And after Louis was born, when I saw
the tenderness in his eyes every time he looked at him …
Oh, Armand you don’t know how I’ve longed for him to look
at me like that. I’m guilty of being jealous of my own son
because his father loves him, can you imagine? But I still
hate him, Armand. And it’s that hatred that will keep me
together, that will stop me from throwing myself at him and
begging him to love me. Because that’s what I want to do.
I’ve failed in every other way, and now I want to beg him…
But I’ll never do it, because if I did I’d end up despising
myself as much as he does.’
She sat down then, and buried her face in her hands.
‘He’s a traitor, and a murderer, I know that, so why can’t I
make myself believe it? Why can’t I just accept the fact that
he doesn’t love me, and get on with my life? It’s as though he
has some kind of hold over me, as though he won’t let go of
me. But that’s not true! I’m the one who won’t let go - and I must. Yet even as I say all these things, I still don’t know what to do. It’s as if I’m drowning. As if someone has pushed me
from dry land and now I’m being submerged by waves I can
do nothing to control. But I will control them, Armand. I
will! And the only way I can do that is to deny, to ignore,
everything that’s happening inside me. So please, Armand,
don’t force me into saying something I just can’t allow
myself to feel.’
When she had finished there was a long, long silence.
The rain had stopped, and the only sounds were of water
running from the guttering into the barrels beneath, and
the fire crackling in the hearth. She had said a great deal,
much more than she had intended, but she could not allow
herself to go any further. So many times in the past she had
opened herself to receive his love - the day she married
him, the day Louis was born, the night of the July ball and
on each of those - and on others too painful to recall he
had pushed her away. She couldn’t let that happen
again.
Armand’s voice seemed to come from a great distance as
he spoke into the darkness. ‘You’re only making it worse by
hiding from it.’
‘Maybe you’re right,’ she sighed. ‘But I don’t know any
other way. How can I even begin to understand my feelings
when they just don’t make sense? But I suppose that trying
to tie love to logic is like trying to pin the sun to the moon.
Once in a while they will meet, but even then one will always
eclipse the other.’
‘You shouldn’t try to make sense of the way you are
feeling,’ he said. ‘You should simply accept it. Maybe then
you can decide what to do.’
‘Hasn’t he made that decision for me?’
‘Only if you let him.’
She turned in her chair to face him, and her heart
contracted as she saw the tears on his cheeks.
‘No, don’t look at me, Claudine,’ he said, hiding his face.
‘I don’t want you to see me like this.’
She started to get up, but he held out his arm to keep her
away. ‘Don’t touch me,’ he sobbed. ‘Please, just leave me
alone now.’
‘But Armand …’
‘I’ve tried to be strong for you,’ he wept, ‘but I can’t take
any more. I can’t listen to any more.’
‘I’m sorry!’ she said. ‘Oh my God, I didn’t think. I…’
‘No, you didn’t, did you?’ he said. ‘Because all you’ve ever
thought about is him. Well, I can’t live in his shadow any
longer. Find him, wherever he is, and go to him. I don’t want
you near me. I can’t stand you looking at me with those
accusing eyes, hating me because I’m not him.’
‘I’ve never done that!’ she cried.
‘Oh, but you have. And me, pathetic, used little man that I
am…’
‘I’ve never used you!’
‘For Christ’s sake! What do you think you’ve been doing
here today? You’ve used me from the start. You admitted as
much yourself: you wanted to make him jealous. But it
didn’t work, did it? But even then you couldn’t bear to be
alone, so you kept coming. But what would have happened if
he’d lifted just one finger to call you back to him? You’d have
gone! You’d have left me as cruelly as he left you. You’re two
of a kind, you and Francois, Claudine. You deserve one
another. But don’t ever forget what happened to Hortense.
She paid the price of loving him, and she paid it with her life.
Now get your coat, because I’m taking you back to the
chateau for the last time.’
She was dumbfounded, and could only stare at him. At
last she got up from the chair and lifted her coat from the
bed. ‘Armand,’ she said, as they started out into the forest.
‘Armand, you’re wrong, you know. I did love you. Perhaps
not in the way you wanted me to, but I’d never have left you
the way you say I would. Armand, I couldn’t bear it if we
parted like this.’
‘Oh, you’ll learn to live with it,’ he said bitterly. ‘Just as
you’ve learned to live with Francois’ rejection. You’ll bury it
all, as though none of it has happened. And if anyone
reminds you of it a few years from now, you’ll shudder with revulsion at the idea that you allowed your husband’s vigneron even to come near you. And where will I be? I’ll be there, tending the vines, looking after your estate and you
won’t even be able to bring yourself to speak to me.’
‘That’s not true!’ she cried. ‘I don’t know why you’re
saying all these things.’
He drew breath to speak, but she put her hand over his
mouth. ‘No, stop! Please, stop it now, before we both say
things we’ll only regret later.’
He shoved her hand away. ‘Are you giving me orders, madam?’ he sneered.
‘Armand! What’s got into you? Just now you were so…’
She shook her head. ‘I understand that you’re hurting, that
it’s all my fault, but I had no idea you were capable of such
bitterness.’
He closed his eyes, ‘I’m not,’ he growled, his voice thick
with self-disgust. ‘I’m not even capable of that. But I’m
trying to give myself something to hold onto.’ Suddenly he
clutched her to him and buried his face in her hair. ‘Don’t
desert me, Claudine!’ he sobbed. ‘Don’t leave me altogether,
because I don’t think I could bear it.’
Francois hadn’t really expected Paris to look any different
from the last time he’d seen it, but seven months is a long
time, and he was relieved, and in some way comforted, to
find that the city hadn’t changed. Perhaps there were many
more bicycles than he remembered, a result of the petrol
rationing no doubt, but otherwise the tree-lined avenues,
the pavement cafes, the grey still waters of the Seine, the
hurrying people -unmistakably Parisians - were the same.
Inwardly he shuddered as he remembered Warsaw: the
smoking ruins, the terrified faces, the jackbooted German
soldiers as they looted the debris and beat innocent people
half to death. It all came so vividly to his mind that for a
moment it was as though it were happening right in front of
him. That Paris should suffer in that way was unthinkable.
He hoped to God that if it ever came to it, someone would
have the foresight to declare her an open city before the
Germans razed her glory to ashes.
As he drove past the Tuileries Gardens, heading towards
the Champs Elysees, he stole a quick glance at Erich von
Pappen who was sitting beside him, his peculiar face turned
towards the window. Von Pappen had been at the border to
meet him when he drove through at five o’clock that
morning in his own black Citroen, which von Liebermann
had returned the day before. Thank God von Pappen had
brought him a change of clothes, or he might still be wearing
the commandant’s uniform the Abwehr had supplied him
with before he left. Von Liebermann had insisted he wear it,
no doubt to titillate his own perverted sense of humour, as
very few members of the Abwehr wore uniform.
Once von Pappen had filled him in on what had been
happening while he was away, they had spent most of the
journey in silence. As yet neither had mentioned Elise, or
Francois’ family. Now as Francois swerved to avoid a cyclist
on the Place de la Concorde, von Pappen was the first to
break the silence.
‘Do you think you’ve gained their trust yet?’
‘Only they know the answer to that, mon ami.’ Francois
replied,
‘Max Helber tells me that they set you a test before you
left.’
‘Mmm.’ Francois’ hooded eyes narrowed, and von
Pappen felt rather than saw their virulence.
‘Did you pass?’