God Speed the Night Read Online Free Page A

to her.
    Sister Gabrielle was on her way back to the barouche when the man spoke. She and Reverend Mother had been permitted to go through the baggage room to where the northern sisters were detained. Reverend Mother, she was sure, had not expected the children, but Sister St. André spoke as though it had all been arranged and Reverend Mother pretended it was so. The Germans wanted to know who the children’s parents were, where they were, everything about them, but mostly they wanted to know if the children were Jewish. There were three little girls and a boy. Everyone spoke as though the children did not understand what was being said, almost as though they were not there at all. Which was why Gabrielle had suggested that she be allowed to take them out to see Poirot, the horse, and bring them back later. At that point Reverend Mother had sent her back by herself to see that the horse was all right.
    When the man spoke, saying, “If you please, Sister,” Gabrielle looked around to make sure that it was she to whom he spoke. There was no other nun in sight.
    “Yes, monsieur?”
    The man in the railway uniform said, “This woman is ill, Sister. Perhaps you could take her to a doctor.”
    The woman did look ill, but she also looked frightened, her eyes darting to the face of the tall man. Gabrielle glanced at him: his eyes seemed to have been waiting for hers. She looked away quickly. “Madame could rest in the barouche,” she said. “I must wait for Reverend Mother.”
    “It would be a charity, Sister,” the trainman said. His voice quavered just a little.
    Marc realized what had happened: his show of authority to get them past the man had aroused his concern for Rachel, he was trying not to leave her in Marc’s hands. Marc took the valise from Rachel’s hand, and said to the railway man, “I will see that madame is taken care of, monsieur. Believe me, I am not unconcerned.”
    The man started back to his post, then stopped again. “Monsieur.”
    Marc told Rachel to go to the carriage with the nun, and went back to meet the trainman.
    “May I see your identification, if you please, monsieur?”
    Rachel, about to climb into the barouche, stopped dead still when she saw Marc take his I.D. card from his pocket. Gabrielle put out her hand to help her. Rachel caught it and held onto it for dear life.
    Marc watched the man’s face, the shock at seeing the Star of David. “She is my wife,” Marc said. “We are on the run.”
    “Get out of here quickly,” the man said. “Things are bad in St. Hilaire.”
    “Can you tell me where to find Monsieur Lapin?”
    “Please, monsieur. I have three children. It is against the law to help you.”
    Marc turned back and saw the women standing, their hands joined. He went back to them having to move now among the people coming from the station. At the gate to the courtyard they were having again to show their permits. He said to the nun, “We are Jews, Sister, and we must find a place to hide.”
    Gabrielle prayed that Reverend Mother would come, but she knew that she would not. The woman still clung to her hand, the first time any hand had touched hers in almost a year. “But madame is ill,” she said.
    “I am not that ill,” the woman said, and removed her hand from Gabrielle’s. “It is more important that we find a place.”
    “I do not know the town. Wait and I will go to Reverend Mother.”
    “We cannot wait,” the man said. “There are Nazis everywhere. Do you know what it means if we are taken?”
    “I think so, monsieur.”
    Please, dear Lord, let me help, Gabrielle thought. Perhaps to pray instinctively is to concentrate in a way not otherwise possible. Once as a child she had come to St. Hilaire with her father, bringing grain to the mill. While her father drank wine with the miller, she had climbed to the loft with the miller’s son and there from the window they had taken turns spitting down into the canal. She and Reverend Mother had passed the