Rebecca nodded. “You were expecting them, of course.”

“Can we talk about it?”

“Is there anything to say?”

“Perhaps.”

She opened the door of the dining room, used occasionally for formal dinners and otherwise for doing homework. They went in and sat down. Rebecca did not close the door.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Hans said.

Rebecca was scared. Did he mean escape? Did he know? She managed to say: “Do what?”

“Get divorced,” he said.

She was confused. “Why not?” she said. “It’s what you want, too.”

“Is it?”

“Hans, what are you trying to say?”

“That we don’t have to be divorced. We could start again. This time there would be no deceptions. Now that you know I am an officer of the Stasi, there would be no need for lies.”

This felt like a stupid dream in which impossible things happen. “But why?” she said.

Hans leaned forward across the table. “Don’t you know? Can’t you at least guess?”

“No, I can’t!” she said, although she had the glimmering of a creepy suspicion.

“I love you,” said Hans.

“For God’s sake!” Rebecca shouted. “How can you say such a thing? After all you’ve done!”

“I mean it,” he said. “I was faking it at first. But I realized after a while what a wonderful woman you are. I wanted to marry you, that wasn’t just work. You’re beautiful, and smart, and dedicated to teaching—I admire dedication. I’ve never met a woman like you. Come back to me, Rebecca—please.”

“No!” she shouted.

“Think about it. Take a day. Take a week.”

“No!”

She was yelling her refusal at the top of her voice, but he acted as if she were coyly pretending reluctance. “We’ll talk again,” he said with a smile.

“No!” she yelled. “Never! Never! Never!” And she ran from the room.

They were all at the open door of the kitchen, looking scared. Bernd said: “What? What happened?”

“He doesn’t want a divorce,” Rebecca wailed. “He says he loves me. He wants to start again—give it another chance!”

Bernd said: “I’m going to fucking strangle him.”

But there was no need to restrain Bernd. At that moment they heard the front door slam.

“He’s gone,” Rebecca said. “Thank God.”

Bernd put his arms around her and she buried her face in his shoulder.

“Well,” said Carla in a shaky voice, “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Werner unloaded the pistol.

Grandma Maud said: “That’s not the end of it. Hans will come back. Stasi officers do not believe that ordinary people can say no to them.”

“And they’re right,” said Werner. “Rebecca, you have to leave today.”

She detached herself from Bernd’s embrace. “Oh, no—today?”

“Now,” her father said. “You’re in terrible danger.”

Bernd said: “He’s right. Hans may come back with reinforcements. We have to do now what we planned to do tomorrow morning.”

“All right,” said Rebecca.

Rebecca and Bernd ran upstairs to their room. Bernd put on his black corduroy suit with a white shirt and a black tie, as if going to a funeral. Rebecca, too, dressed all in black. They both put on black gym shoes. From under the bed Bernd took a coiled washing line he had bought last week. He slung it across his body like a bandolier, then put on a brown leather jacket to hide it. Rebecca donned a dark short coat over her black roll-neck sweater and black pants.