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FORTY-NINE

S amuel comes home from work early, his face pasty white. Colette rushes to him. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

He collapses into his armchair and drops his head into his hands.

“Should I call Dr. Auclair?”

“No,” he mumbles. “Nothing like that.”

She kneels by his chair. “Then what?”

“You and Genevieve must leave Paris immediately. I’ve arranged for papers and transportation. Colleagues in London—”

“We’re not going to London or anywhere else without you.”

“It’s all been planned. Once you arrive, some of my business associates will meet you and help you get settled. I’ll join you as soon as I’ve put our affairs in order here.”

Germany now occupies France and is pushing its way across Europe in an attempt to conquer the continent, an effort that is succeeding at a frightening pace.

The Bernheims’ quiet life, as well as the lives of everyone in the country, has been upended by the occupation and the fear of what might be to come.

Rumors abound about the implementation of anti-Jewish laws similar to those passed in Germany, but as far as Colette knows, none have been enacted.

Now she sees she has been a fool to dismiss Samuel’s earlier concerns.

“The Germans?” she whispers.

He raises his head and nods.

She reels back on her heels. “But, but the French government will never allow those thugs to do the things here that they’ve done in their own country,” she says, grasping at the possibility. “That can’t happen.”

His eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot. “There is no French government any longer. At least not as we knew it. It’s the Germans who make the rules now. All the laws. And they’re in charge of enforcing them, along with that damn Vichy regime in the south, which is in lockstep with the Nazis.”

Colette has never heard Samuel swear before, and she’s astounded as much by this as by what he’s saying. Lockstep with the Nazis. No French government. She clutches at the locket around her neck and takes the chair next to his, her legs unsteady.

“There’s been talk that a Commissariat Général for Jewish Affairs is being created,” he continues. “To write laws restricting our rights, including property and citizenship. I was skeptical about this, but now I know it’s true.”

“But these laws can’t be aimed at us,” she protests. “The Bernheims are an esteemed Parisian family, and have been for generations. As is my side, the Manets, Morisots, and Deniauses, none of whom are even Jewish.”

Samuel pulls an envelope from his jacket pocket and hands it to her.

“My associate, Lucien Desrosiers, a Christian, was recruited against his will to the Commissariat Général. He passed this to me in secret this morning. He said it’s only a draft, but assured me it will soon be finalized. And executed.”

Colette pulls four pages from the envelope.

The first is a document entitled “Seizure Decree,” the words surrounded by a circle of swastikas.

It’s an order for the confiscation of the art collection of Samuel Bernheim.

The other three pages list all the individual works they own, along with a startlingly complete and detailed description of each piece and its estimated value.

“How, how do they know all of this?”

He stares out the window and says in a voice void of emotion, “Records, informants, intimidation, violence.”

“But they can’t just come into our house and take what’s ours. What isn’t theirs. It’s against the law.” As soon as she says this, she realizes how infantile she sounds.

Samuel runs his fingers through his hair.

“They’re, they’re going to make theft legal?” she stammers.

“If they’re stealing from Jews, it’s not illegal.

It’s been happening in Germany and Austria, and there are stories of much worse.

” Samuel looks as if he’s aged a decade since breakfast this morning, and it’s clear he believes everything he’s saying.

Her husband is not a fatalistic man, and his words terrify her.

She scans the walls of the parlor, at the priceless pieces in this single room. And there are so many more throughout the house, including Party . “We must hide them then. We have Christian friends who will help us. Our vault at the bank. My aunt’s summer house in Arles.”

“There isn’t time. It’s more important to save ourselves than it is to save paintings.”

She’s shaken that he would consider leaving their art collection unprotected. “The Germans are awful people, but they aren’t going to hurt us. We’re civilians. We’re nothing to them.”

“Ah, my innocent shiksa.” He smiles at her forlornly. “I wanted to marry you because I loved you so much, but given the times, it’s clear that because I loved you I should not have done so.”

Now Colette is truly afraid. “Is Genevieve in danger?”

“That is why you both must go to London.”

“If we don’t have time to save them all, I’ll at least take Party with me.”

Samuel starts to shake his head, thinks better of it. “We must begin packing immediately. The travel documents will be delivered tomorrow night, and the car will arrive before dawn the following morning.”

THEY KEEP GENEVIEVE home from school the next day. She’s thirteen and full of questions. Samuel is at his office, and it falls to Colette to try to answer these in a way that won’t frighten the child. Which is difficult.

Colette is trying to decide which winter clothes to leave behind because Samuel said they could each bring only one suitcase, when Genevieve stomps into her bedroom. “Why can’t we stay here?” she demands.

“It’s only for a short time, darling, and we’ll be back home before you know it,” Colette says. “Think of this as a surprise holiday. An adventure.”

But Genevieve is not having it. “Is this because of the Germans?”

“Partially,” Colette says, not wanting to lie. “They’re doing terrible things in France, and Papa and I think we’ll all be better off in England, where the Germans can’t reach.”

“Why can’t they? They have boats and planes.”

“But they aren’t there now.” She opens her arms to offer the girl a hug, but Genevieve steps away.

“Why isn’t Papa coming with us?”

“You know how busy he is, how much work he has to do. It’s not as easy for him to leave as it is for us. He’ll join us in London as soon as he can. It shouldn’t be very long.”

“If it’s not long, why don’t we just wait for him and go together?”

Colette grabs Genevieve by the shoulders. “I know you don’t want to leave school and your friends, but this is what we’re going to do. And it will be much easier on all of us if you accept this and finish sorting your things. Nelly will be there to help you soon.”

Genevieve wrenches herself from her mother’s grip and trudges off to her room, where she proceeds to slam drawers. Colette is relieved that at least she’s packing.

By the time Samuel arrives home, their suitcases are waiting in the foyer, and the butler has wrapped Party for travel. No one eats much dinner, and there’s little conversation at the table. When their dinner plates are removed and dessert served, Samuel clears his throat.

“There is no reason to worry,” he tells them. “Everything is finalized for your trip, and I’ve leased us a lovely apartment in Mayfair, not far from Hyde Park. It’s already furnished, and I’ll meet you there within the week.” His smile is strained. “So our separation will be short.”

Genevieve starts to cry and climbs into her father’s lap, more six-year-old than thirteen.

It amazes Colette how she can shift from a young woman to a child and then back within minutes.

“It will be as if I’m on a business trip, Pumpkin,” Samuel reassures her, and Genevieve’s sobs grow louder at her father’s use of his nickname for her. “Not even enough time to miss me.”

Colette wishes she could cry and crawl into Samuel’s lap too, but of course she can do neither. “Think about how much fun we’ll have in London, Genny. Plays, museums—” She’s interrupted by a loud crashing at the front door, followed by the sound of breaking glass.

They all jump to their feet, and Samuel turns Genevieve toward the kitchen door. “Tell Cook I said to hide you,” he whispers. “Someplace no one will find.” Then he gives her a little push.

To Colette’s great relief, the girl goes without argument. Then Colette snatches up the third place setting and throws it into a breakfront drawer.

“Good thinking,” Samuel says. “Now you go too.”

Another bang, even louder than the first, reverberates under their feet. Shrieking wood. Angry male voices. Boots.

“Run,” Samuel orders. But before she can, half a dozen armed men wearing Nazi uniforms, covered with swastikas and medals, swarm into the dining room. Samuel stands in front of her, squares his shoulders, and says, “I am a French citizen, and this is my home. Therefore I must ask you to leave.”

“Not anymore you’re not.” A large man with at least six rows of medals across his chest chuckles.

“Jews are no longer citizens of France. You have no more status than a dog.” He looks around at his men and grins.

“Even less. A dog has some value to his master, companionship, hunting, but you and your brethren have less than none.”

His comrades howl in appreciation, and the officer pauses in feigned contemplation. “Although I must admit that some of your women are quite juicy.”

Colette cringes behind Samuel, clutching his waist. How can this be happening? Such vileness. Such hatred. Spewed against her kindhearted husband, her little daughter. Herself. Is she going to be raped? Killed? Genevieve.

“I still must ask you to leave,” Samuel says, his voice strong, unruffled. “You are on my property, and you are not welcome.”