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??The leader did.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. Hitler has a fantastic sense of humor, doesn’t he, Geli?”

She granted that he did seem to enjoy laughing at others’ misfortunes.

Eva volunteered, “We go to Charlie Chaplin films all the time.”

“And not the zoo?” Geli asked. “To see the primates?”

Eva was going to say something foolish, but Hoffmann saved her by getting up from his chair. “We ought to be going,” he said.

Schirach smiled. “We want to see you Charleston, Heinrich!”

“Oh no, the black bottom’s my dance,” Hoffmann said. “There’s a joke there somewhere. I’ll have to go think of it.” And he took Eva by the hand as he strolled across the floor to the hosted bar.

Geli called, “Good-bye, Monkey Girl!”

Eva glowered over her shoulder.

“Aren’t you gracious,” Henny said.

“She’s my rival.”

“She isn’t.”

She turned to Schirach and intensely asked, “Will you go out with me?”

He blanched. “But I was under the impression that you and Herr Hitler—”

She turned to Henny. “See? And so she goes with him to Charlie Chaplin films while I stay home alone. Who isn’t afraid of offending my uncle? Who can risk his jealousy? Uncle Alf has put me in quarantine.”

Seeing that she was near tears, Schirach gallantly stood. “Won’t you dance with me, Geli?”

She glanced at Henny, who furtively nodded, and she listened to the Resi singer as she began “Falling in Love Again.” She got up. “Yes. I would like that. Thank you.”

Schirach escorted her onto the floor, and softly held her waist as he took her right hand. As they waltzed to the song with fifty others, she felt his strength and largeness, the fascinating difference in his torso and footsteps. She felt small and safe, feminine and cared for. She’d missed this. Cologne water was in his jacket and she even found herself liking that. She smiled up at him. “I haven’t waltzed since high school.”

“Am I too clumsy?” he asked.

“Not at all. You’re very graceful.”

“Well, my parents were in the theater.”

“Mine were in the kitchen.”

Schirach laughed. “Aren’t you funny!”

She found herself self-consciously counting steps as Schirach hummed along with the singer. She felt his soft belly forcing their turns. She asked, “Have you seen The Blue Angel?”

“Twice,” he said. “Wasn’t Marlene Dietrich marvelous?”

“My favorite was Emil Jannings.”

“Oh, but his Professor Unrath was so stuffy and middle class and sad. All I could think of him was ‘He is the Germany we are rebelling against.’”

“At least he was in love. She was so callous and insolent and sadistic.”