Echoes

They went to Notre Dame, then Cartier, which was doing a remarkable business selling to German officers and their mistresses. He took her to lunch at Maxim's, and they went to a party at German headquarters that night. Amadea dazzled them in a white satin evening gown with a narrow diamond necklace, long white kid gloves, and rhinestone sandals. Her husband looked extremely proud of her as she was swept around the dance floor by nearly every young officer in the room, and he chatted amiably about the new munitions plans and what a challenge it would be to finish on time. He got all the information he wanted. The second night they attended a smaller dinner party at the Kommandant's home, whose wife became very fond of Amadea in a short time, got slightly drunk and extremely indiscreet, and told her everything her husband had been doing, or all she knew, and made Amadea promise to come back to Paris again soon. They were the hit of the evening by the time they went back to the Crillon for the second night, and Amadea was tempted to suggest they go back to Serge's then, but Colonel Montgomery said they had to play it out until the end and wait until the next morning.

As they had the night before, they slept in the same bed, she in a peach satin nightgown trimmed with cream-colored lace, and he in silk pajamas that were short for him, but Amadea was the only one who would know. They lay side by side in bed, whispering about the things that they had heard that night, as he debriefed her. She had picked up some important information for him, and he was immensely pleased. As they discussed the significance of it, they might as well have been sitting in an office wearing uniforms. The nightgown and pajamas meant nothing to either of them. They were operating as agents of his government, and this was work. Nothing more. They barely slept that night, and Amadea was anxious to leave the next day. She had been aware every moment of the risk they were taking, and as luxurious as their accommodations were, all she wanted was to be back in Melun on the farm.

“Not so quickly,” he chided her, always in German while they were there. “This is our anniversary. We are spending it in Paris. You don't want to leave. You adore being here with me, away from the children. You're a wonderful mother, but an even better wife.” And more than that, he realized, she was a still better agent. She had been invaluable to him for the entire two days, and he hoped to work with her again. She was brilliant at what she did, and better than she knew.

“You lied to me, by the way,” he said over breakfast in their room. They were both dressed by then, and their bags were packed. He had roughed up the sheets considerably when they got up, as she looked at him, wondering what he was doing. “We had a fabulous night of passion,” he explained with a grin. They had lain so still and so far apart that they had barely dented the sheets, and it looked like two corpses had been laid in the bed. When he was finished, it looked like quite a night, and she laughed.

“What did I lie to you about?” She looked puzzled. It was comfortable speaking German to him, although she hadn't spoken it in two years, but it felt like home again.

“You're a wonderful dancer. I saw you tripping around the room, flirting with everyone. I was extremely jealous.” He was only teasing.

“Did I flirt?” She looked horrified. That had not been her intention. She just wanted to be charming and pleasant, and hoped she hadn't misbehaved.

“Not more than you should have, or I would have been forced to make a jealous scene, which fortunately I wasn't. I forgive you. Also for the lie.” In fact, he had watched her dance once or twice, and seen how graceful and light she was on her feet. Particularly for a Carmelite.

They checked out of the hotel, called a cab, and went to the station. And from there they took another cab, went to Serge's house, and were back in the basement room within an hour of leaving the Crillon. As they walked in, Amadea took off her hat and sat down with a tremendous sigh. She was exhausted by the strain of the last two days. She had been terrified, although she hadn't looked it, every second of the day. Although some of the time, she had had fun with him. Particularly at Notre Dame.

Colonel Montgomery told Serge it was the most successful mission of its kind he'd ever done, and he considered it a huge success. He said that Amadea had been flawless in her performance as an SS officer's wife, and had culled a considerable amount of information herself. As the colonel was, Serge was pleased.

“When are we going back?” Amadea asked the colonel with a tired smile after she had changed her clothes back into her own. She felt a little like Cinderella at midnight. It had been fun wearing the beautiful clothes and staying at the Crillon, but her mind had been rarely off the risk of deportation. She was used to the everyday risk of her life in Melun. This had been far, far more extreme.