We marched up the incline toward the rear gate when, from above to our left, we heard the rumble of rolling thunder in the clear blue sky. The woman kept her face averted. Seconds later, a wail of air raid sirens came from every direction for the first time since the start of the invasion.

“Oh là là!” said the groundskeeper. “Those boches always pick the worst moment!” He ushered us out of the gate, locking himself in, and wished us not the customary bonne soirée but bon courage, before trotting away. I seized the opportunity to reach into the woman’s pocket and took her derringer.

“Hey!” she said, slapping me on the cheek. “Give it back or I’ll scream.”

“I doubt anyone will be particularly interested,” I said, throwing the gun over the cemetery wall, “given the circumstances.” From behind us, another whistle. A policeman in a black cape was in the middle of the next intersection, waving his white gloves frantically to and fro. “He’s pointing us to the nearest shelter.”

I took the woman by the hand and we began to run, with sirens wailing around us. We came to a stop in the middle of the intersection, where the traffic policeman was directing us toward a corner bistro. Some ran in that direction, others stood about on the street or on balconies above it, looking skyward, staring at the heavens as if observing an astronomical phenomenon. Outside the bistro, a man in a white armband and a helmet from the previous war was urging people inside. We made our way in and through a throng of bodies and wicker chairs to a trapdoor behind the counter, out of which poked the top rungs of a stepladder. The atmosphere was congenial: some patrons, interrupted during their aperitif, were still holding their glasses, and one even tried to descend the ladder single-handed until the shelter warden lost his patience. He stood at the top of the ladder with a hand-rolled cigarette suspended between his lips, his helmet tilted at a rakish angle, holding glasses and purses and shoes while people disappeared into the cellar. “Come along,” he repeated, “there’s room for everyone.” And then, bending down into the void, he yelled, “Make room down there!”