On my habitual morning walk, I went to the station, skirting the Montparnasse cemetery, which had yet to open. The memory of our meeting—barely more than a week ago, and yet already an age—was almost too painful to bear. The Gare de Lyon was swarming with unhappy, disheveled Parisians, many of whom had been here for days, hoping to leave before the arrival of the Germans. When I found Fritz he was standing in a long, unmoving queue, waiting to board a steam train—even decommissioned steam locomotives had been brought out of retirement for the exodus. All around, entire families were splayed on the ground, surrounded by their baggage and possessions—umbrellas, flower pots, chickens, coffee-makers, birdcages, sheets, curtains—awaiting their turn to leave on the next train, or the one after that. I saw Fritz from a distance, but we didn’t speak until we were quite close, so as not to be overheard speaking German in public and denounced. “Where’s your suitcase?” he asked. I told him I couldn’t leave, that he should give the spare ticket to someone else. He looked at me in disbelief. “Why?”

I looked helplessly at my old friend. “I’m still waiting for my American friends to wire me money.”

“I can lend you money, if that’s all it is. Have them wire it to Marseille.”

“There’s something else, a manuscript.” Listening to myself, I realized how foolish my words must seem to him. I didn’t want to mention Madeleine, whom he hadn’t met, and this reluctance bothered me. Was I ashamed of her—or of myself?

“A manuscript!” He couldn’t help but smile and shake his head. “You’re going to risk your life for a manuscript!” I shrugged, as if to say, there’s nothing to be done, I can’t go. He nodded sadly. “I see,” he said. “Well, if you change your mind, go to Marseille, it’s your best chance of getting out of France alive. Leave a message for me at the Hôtel Splendide.” There was a youth standing alone nearby in a cap and long shorts, looking forlorn. Fritz offered him the ticket and the boy lit up with happiness. We smoked cigarettes together until a whistle blew and the line began to move. One by one, people entered the carriages and hauled their suitcases aboard. The train vanished in a cloud of smoke and steam.