Paris: The Novel

American Hospital.”
    The colonel nodded, and Charlie supposed that the information would probably be checked. Colonel Walter’s attitude was made apparent, however, when he turned to Roland and remarked: “The French army fought with gallantry, monsieur. But your High Command did not prepare correctly.”
    “That is what I think,” Roland answered. “It is gracious of you to say it.”
    But the defining moment came a few minutes later. They were in the old hall where the lovely tapestry of the unicorn hung on the wall, and they all stopped to admire it.
    “Truly beautiful,” Colonel Walter remarked. “A jewel in a perfect setting. Has it always been here?”
    And then Roland, remembering the circumstances of his father’s purchase, had an inspiration.
    “As it happens,” he replied, quickly rearranging the facts to suit, “it was my father who bought this tapestry. The price was a little high, but he discovered that if he didn’t buy it at that price, it was going to be acquired by a Jew. So he paid.” He gave the colonel a glance, accompanied by a faint shrug. “We felt that it belonged here.”
    “Ah.” Colonel Walter inclined his head. “A good deed.” Charlie could see the two staff officers visibly relax.
    The lunch was pleasant. The German officers were correct in their behavior, but it was clear that, as far as they were concerned, the family of de Cygne were just the kind of people they wanted to encourage.
    As they were leaving, Roland did murmur to Colonel Walter that, should the army need to requisition the château, he hoped he might receive a little notice.
    “Of course,” Walter replied, and smiled. “Look after that tapestry.” Charlie was pretty sure that his family would not be troubled further.

    He was still walking with a stick, but looking otherwise well, on the Sunday afternoon when he turned up to see Louise. It was the first time he had been to her apartment since the previous autumn, and although she had come to the hospital once, she had been reluctant, because of her fear of meeting his family.
    Under his arm, so that anyone could see it, he was carrying a book by Céline, the darling of French reactionaries, whose anti-Semitism left even the Nazis awestruck.
    As he approached, Charlie wondered what would happen between them. Thanks to the war, it had been a year since he and Louise had been alone together. She had the child she wanted, and she had made her desire for independence very clear. Would she still want to continue the affair? And did he want to continue it himself? He didn’t really know. He thought he probably did, but he decided he’d just have to see how things developed when they met.
    In the meantime, he realized that he was quite excited to see his little son.

    They stood in the salon of her apartment opposite the museum.
    “We should celebrate your return,” she said. “Champagne?”
    They were face-to-face, just a little apart.
    “I’m still a cripple,” he said.
    “So I see.” She smiled.
    How wonderfully attractive she was. Nothing had changed. Nothing at all. He was about to take her in his arms when she gently held him back.
    “Wait. You have somebody to see first.”
    She led him across the small hall and into the second bedroom, which was arranged as a nursery.
    How quickly little children grow, he thought. The baby he remembered had turned into a little boy. Only two years old, but a child who walked, and talked—and who resembled him. He picked Esmé up and held him so that the little fellow looked straight into his eyes. He smiled.
    “Do you know who I am?”
    “My papa.”
    “Yes. Your papa.”
    “Will you stay here?”
    “Not all the time.”
    “Maman belongs to me.”
    “I know. But I shall see her sometimes. Whenever I see you.”
    The tiny boy gazed at him thoughtfully.
    “You are my papa.”
    “Yes.”
    And then Charlie suddenly had an urge to stay with this woman and with his son. And he hardly cared that she was much older than he was, and that she owned a brothel, and that he was the future Vicomte de Cygne. And he wanted to marry Louise, even though he knew that he would not.
    He stayed half an hour with his son, playing with him. Then the nanny came in to take Esmé for a walk, and Charlie and Louise retired to her bedroom and made love.
    It was early evening when she told him about her dilemma. Should she keep L’Invitation au Voyage open—in which case she’d have to cater to the occupying German