The night in Lisbon

  " 'Yes or no?'

  "I held the letter out to her, and she read it. 'Yes or no?' I repeated.

  " 'No', she said.

  "I laid the letter on the table. 'At least don't destroy it,' I said.

  "She made no reply. I'll come back and kill you if you prevent this letter from reaching my wife,' I said.

  " 'Is that all?' the woman asked, and stared at me out of flat green eyes in a worn face.

  "I shook my head and went to the door. 'She's not here?' I asked, turning around again.

  "The woman stared and said nothing. Til be in camp for another ten minutes,' I said. 'I'll come back and ask again.'

  "I went down the camp street. I didn't believe her; I decided to wait a little while and go back to the store for another look around. But all at once I felt that my invisible protective cloak was gone—suddenly I was enormous and very conspicuous. I'd have to hide.

  "I stepped into a door at random. 'What do you want?' a woman asked.

  " I've been sent to check the wiring,' said someone beside me who was myself. 'Is anything out of order?'

  " 'Not any more than usual.'

  "The woman had on a white smock. 'Is this the hospital?' I asked.

  " 'Yes. Is that where you were supposed to go?*

  " 'My boss sent me up from town. To check the circuits.'

  " 'Go ahead and check,' said the woman.

  "A man in uniform came in. 'What's going on?*

  "The woman in the white smock explained. I looked at the man. It seemed to me that I knew him from somewhere. 'Electricity?' he said. 'Medicine and vitamins would be a damn sight more useful.'

  "He tossed his cap on the table and left the room.

  " 'Everything's all right in here,' I said to the woman in white. 'Who was that?'

  " "The doctor, of course. The rest of them don't give a damn about anything.'

  " 'Have you a lot of patients?'

  " 'Plenty.'

  '"And deaths?'

  "She looked at me. 'Why do you ask?'

  " 'Just like that,' I replied. 'Why is everybody so suspicious around here?'

  " 'Just like that,' the woman repeated. 'Pure caprice, you innocent angel with a home and a passport! No, there hasn't been a death in four weeks. But there were quite a few before that.'

  "Four weeks before, I had received a letter from Helen. So she must still be here. 'Thank you,' I said.

  " 'Don't thank me,' the woman said. 'Thank God that your parents gave you a country you can love, even if it has fallen on hard times—even if it persecutes the unfortunate and hands them over to the wolves—the same wolves that are responsible for all your trouble. Get along now. Go on making light. If you could only make a little light in some people's heads!'

  " 'Has a German commission been here?' I asked hurriedly.

  " 'Why do you want to know that?'

  " 'I've heard that one is expected.'

  " 'Do you find such information particularly fascinating?'

  " 'No, but I've got to warn somebody.'

  " 'Whom?' asked the woman, visibly on her guard.

  " 'Helen Baumann,' I said.

  "The woman looked at me. 'Warn her about what?' she asked.

  " 'Do you know her?'

  " 'Why?'

  "Again that wall of distrust—it was explained to me later. 'I am her husband,' I said.

  " 'Can you prove it?'

  " 'No. My papers are in a different name. But maybe you'll be convinced when I tell you that I'm not French.'

  "I brought out Schwarz's passport. 'A Nazi passport,' said the woman. 'Just what I thought. Why are you doing this?'

  "I lost my patience. 'To see my wife again. She's here. She wrote me so herself.'

  " 'Have you got the letter?'

  " 'No. I destroyed it when I escaped from Le Vernet. Why is everybody so mysterious?'

  " 'That's what I'd like you to tell me.'

  "The doctor came back. 'Are you needed here?' he asked the woman.

  " 'No.'

  " "Then come with me. Finished?' he asked me.

  " 'Not yet. I'll be back tomorrow.'

  "I went back to the store. The redhead was behind the counter, selling underwear. There were two customers. I waited. Again I had the feeling that my luck was running out; I'd better be going, or I might have trouble at the gate. The guards would be changed and I'd have to explain everything all over again. I saw no sign of Helen. The woman avoided my gaze. It was clear that she was dragging things out. Then some more customers arrived, and I saw an officer passing outside the window. I left the building.

  "The guards hadn't been changed. They remembered me and let me pass. I had the same feeling as at Le Vernet: that they would crawl up behind me and capture me. I broke out in a sweat.

  "An old truck was coming toward me. There was no place to hide. I kept on walking, my eyes to the ground. The truck passed me by and then stopped. I resisted the temptation to run. The truck had room to turn around in, and I wouldn't have had a chance. I heard quick steps behind me. Someone cried out: 'Heigh, mechanic!'

  "I turned around. A middle-aged man in uniform came up to me. 'Do you know anything about motors?'

  " 'No. I'm an electrician.'

  " 'Maybe it's the ignition. Take a look.'

  " 'Yes, please have a look,' said the driver. I looked up. It was Helen. She stood behind the soldier, staring at me and holding her finger to her lips. She was wearing pants and a sweater and was very thin.

  " 'Yes, please have a look,' she repeated, and let me pass. 'Be careful,' she whispered. 'Pretend to know what you're doing. There's nothing wrong.'

  "The soldier ambled along behind us. 'Where have you come from?' she whispered.

  "I opened the hood with a clatter. 'Escaped. How can we meet?'

  "She peered into the motor beside me. 'I buy for the store. Day after tomorrow. Be in the village. First cafe" on the left as you come in. At nine in the morning.'

  " 'And meanwhile?'

  " 'Is it going to be long?' the soldier asked.

  "Helen took a pack of cigarettes from her pants pocket and held it out to him. 'Only a couple of minutes. It's nothing serious.'

  "The soldier lit up and sat down by the side of the road. I tinkered with the engine, and Helen looked on. 'Where?' I asked her. 'In the woods? By the fence? I was there yesterday. Can you come tonight?'

  "She hesitated a moment. 'All right. Tonight. But I can't make it before ten.'

  "'Why not?'

  " 'Because all the others should have left by then. If I'm not there at ten, it'll be tomorrow. Be careful.'

  " 'How are the gendarmes here?'

  "The soldier approached. 'Not so bad,' said Helen in French. 'It'll be done in a minute.'

  "'It's an old car,' I said.

  "The soldier laughed. 'The Boches have the new ones. And the ministers. Finished?'

  "'Yes,'said Helen.

  " 'Lucky we met you,' said the soldier. 'All I know about cars is that they need gas.'

  "He climbed in. Helen followed. She shifted into gear. Probably she had just turned off the switch. The motor ran. 'Thank you,' she said, leaning out to me. Her lips formed inaudible words. 'You're a first-class mechanic,' she said then, and drove off.

  "I stood there for a few seconds in the blue oil fumes. I felt as though I had passed from extreme heat to extreme cold; that is, I felt nothing. I just walked along mechanically. Then little by little I began to think, and with thought came anxiety and the recollection of what I had heard, and the twitching, gnawing torment of doubt.

  "I lay in the woods and waited. The wailing wall, as Helen called the row of women staring blindly into the dusk, thinned out. Soon most of them had drifted inside the camp. It grew darker. I stared at the fence posts. They turned to shadows, and then in among them a new dark shadow appeared.

  " 'Where are you?' Helen whispered.

  " 'Here.'

  "I groped my way to her. 'Can you come out?' I asked.

  "
'Later, when they've all gone. Wait.'

  "I crept back into the woods, just far enough not to be seen if someone should direct a flashlight at the woods. I lay on the ground, breathing in the heady smell of dead leaves. A light breeze came up; all around me there was a rustling as though a thousand spies were crawling toward me. My eyes grew accustomed to the darkness; I saw Helen's shadow and above it, vaguely, her pale face. I couldn't make out her features. She hung on the barbed wire like a black plant with a white flower. Then she seemed like a dark nameless figure out of the dark past. Her face—because I couldn't distinguish the features—became the face of all the sufferers in the world. A little farther on I made out a second woman, who was standing just like Helen, and then a third and a fourth— they stood there like a row of caryatids supporting a canopy of grief and hope.

  "The sight was almost intolerable, and I looked away. When I looked again, the other three had silently disappeared, and I saw that Helen had bent down and was tugging at the barbed wire. 'Hold it apart,' she said.

  "I stepped on the lowest strand and lifted the next one.

  "'Wait, 'Helen whispered.

  " 'Where are the others?' I asked.

  " They've gone back. One is a Nazi; that's why I couldn't come through sooner. She would have given me away. She's the one who was crying.'

  "Helen took her blouse and skirt off and handed them to me through the wire. 'I mustn't tear them/ she said. 'They are the only ones I have.'

  "I was reminded of a poor family: it's all right if the children bark their knees as long as they don't tear their stockings, because wounds heal, whereas stockings have to be bought.

  "I felt her clothes in my hands. Helen bent down and crawled carefully between the strands of wire. She scratched her shoulder. The blood was like a thin black snake on her skin. She stood up. 'Do you think we can escape?' I asked.

  "'Where to?'

  "I didn't know. 'To Spain,' I said. To Africa.'

  " 'Come,' said Helen. 'Come and we'll talk about it. It's impossible to get away from here without papers. That's why they're not very careful.'

  "She went into the woods ahead of me. She was almost naked—and mysterious and very beautiful, with only a faint hint of the Helen who had been my wife in Paris, barely enough for a sweet, painful recognition that made my skin tingle with expectancy. The woman who had stepped out of the frieze of caryatids was almost nameless, still immersed in nine months of a strange life that outweighed twenty years of normal existence."

  CHAPTER 14

  The bar owner came over to us. "The fat one is magnificent," he informed us with dignity. "French. Knows all the tricks. I recommend her highly. Our women have fire, but they're in too much of a hurry." He smacked his lips. "I'll be going now. Nothing better than a French girl to clean the blood. They know about life. You don't have to lie to them as much as to our women. I hope you get home all right, gentlemen. Don't take Lolita or Juana. They're neither of them any good, and Lolita steals if you don't keep your eyes open."

  He left us. As he opened the door, the morning leapt in with its sounds and light. "We'd better be going, too," I said.

  "I've almost finished," said Schwarz, "and we still have some wine." He ordered wine and coffee for the three girls, to make them leave us alone.

  "We didn't talk much that night," he went on. "I spread out my jacket on the ground, and when it grew cooler, we covered ourselves with Helen's skirt and blouse and my sweater. Helen fell asleep and woke up again; once when I was half asleep, it seemed to me that she was crying. A moment later she was wildly affectionate. There was something new, unfamiliar, in the way she caressed me. I asked her no questions and made no mention of what I had heard in the camp. I loved her very much, but felt removed from her in some strange, inexplicable way. My tenderness was mingled with a sadness that only made it stronger. We clung to one another at the edge of another world. There was no going back and no destination, just flight, flight together, and despair—a silent, otherworldly despair that drank up our tears of happiness and the unshed shadow tears of a knowledge that there is only passing and no return or arrival at any destination.

  " 'Couldn't we escape?' I asked again, before Helen slipped back through the barbed wire.

  "She answered only after reaching the other side. I can't,' she whispered. 'I can't. Others would be punished. Come back. Come back tomorrow night. Can you come tomorrow night?'

  "'If I'm not caught first.'

  "She stared at me. 'What has become of our life?' she said. 'What have we done that our life should come to this?'

  "I passed her her blouse and skirt. 'Are these your best things?' I asked.

  "She nodded.

  " 'Thank you for wearing them,' I said. Til make it tomorrow night. I'm sure. I'll hide in the woods.'

  " 'You'll have to eat. Have you got anything?'

  " 'Yes, of course. And maybe I'll find berries in the woods. Or mushrooms or nuts.'

  " 'Can you hold out until tomorrow night? Then I'll bring you some food.'

  " 'Of course. It's almost morning now.'

  " 'Don't eat any mushrooms. You don't know them. I'll bring you plenty to eat.' She put on her skirt. It was wide and light blue, with white flowers. She threw it around her and buttoned it as though girding herself for a battle. 'I love you,' she said desperately. 'I love you much more than you can ever know. Don't forget that. Never!'

  "She said that almost every time she left me. In those days we were everybody's game. The French gendarmes hunted us down in a misdirected passion for law and order. The Gestapo tried to poke its nose into the camps, although there was said to be an agreement to the contrary with the Petain government. You never knew who might pick you up, and every morning we said good-by as if for the last time.

  "Helen brought me bread and fruit and an occasional piece of sausage or cheese. I was afraid to stay in the village. Not far from the camp I came across the ruins of an old monastery, and there I set up housekeepings In the daytime I slept or read the books and papers that Helen brought me, or watched the road from a thicket where I could not be seen. Helen also brought me the news and rumors: the Germans were coming steadily closer and not letting any agreements interfere with their activities.

  "Even so, our life was almost idyllic. Fear gripped me from time to time, but the habit of living from hour to hour pulled me through. The weather was good; the sky at night was full of stars. Helen had brought a piece of tent cloth. We spread it out amid the ruins of the monastery and filled it with dry leaves. 'How do you manage to get out?' I asked her once. 'And so often?*

  " 'I have a special job,' she said after a while, 'and a certain amount of pull. They even let me go to the village. I was coming back when you saw me the other day.'

  " 'Is that where you get the food?'

  " 'No. In the camp store. We can buy things if we have money and there's anything to buy.'

  " 'Aren't you afraid of being seen here and reported?'

  "She smiled. 'Only for you. Not for myself. What can happen to me? I'm a prisoner already.'

  "The next night she did not appear. The wailing wall disintegrated, I crept up to the fence, the barracks lay black in the faint light. I waited, but she did not come. All night I heard the women on their way to the latrines, I heard sighing and moaning, and suddenly I saw the blackout lights of cars on the road. I spent the day in the woods. I was worried; something must have happened. For a while I thought of what I had heard in the camp, and, by a strange reversal, it was a comfort to me. Anything was better than that Helen should be sick, shipped out, or dead—three possibilities that merged in my mind. Our life was so hopeless, only one thing mattered: to stay together and try, when the time came, to escape to a quiet harbor. One day perhaps we'd be able to forget all this.

  "But it can't be done," said Schwarz. "Not with all the love, compassion, kindness, and tenderness in the world. I knew that, but I didn't care. I lay in the woods and stared at the dead leaves, red and yellow and brown, a
s they fell from the branches, and my one thought was: Let her live! Let her live, oh God, and I'll never ask her anything. The life of a human being is so much more than all the situations it can get mixed up in; let her live, just live, without me if need be, but let her live.

  "Helen didn't come the next night either. But I saw two cars on the road to the camp. I crept around in a wide arc and watched the road. I distinguished uniforms. Whether SS or Army I couldn't make out, but they were definitely German. It was an agonizing night. The cars arrived at about nine and didn't leave until after one. It must be the Gestapo, I thought, or they wouldn't have come at night. When they left, I couldn't see whether anyone from the camp was being taken along. I roamed around all night, along the fence and on the road. In the morning I thought of posing as an electrician again, but then I saw that the guard had been doubled and that a civilian was sitting by the gate with lists.