It wasn’t until Elisabeth von Hoffmann was actually in the carriage and speeding away that the reality of what was happening settled on her and became true. After the initial joy of lightness, of unshackling, of freedom, there was a sudden moment of fear and doubt. She’d stiffened with the keen surprise of it, her heart beating. The brilliant lightness of escape had instantly plummeted, had weighed down without warning (she’d felt it physically in her body and pressed the heels of her palms into the carriage seat to brace herself). And then, as quickly as the fear had come, it was gone, dissolved. The moment passed.

Such doubts were naturally only ever fleeting in the young.

She turned to the général, put her head on his shoulder, and gazed out of the carriage window again. Dark and gloomy Berlin went by. Elisabeth was happier than she’d ever been in her life.

She had left a note for her aunt Margaretha on the side table in the hallway.

The général is to be the new governor in Cayenne and I am going with him. Forgive me, Aunt. And wish me well! Your Loving Niece . . .

Their plan had been hastily put together and they were giddy with it, the pleasure of its pending expressed in irrepressible smiles, even as they whispered and dressed and moved silently through the sleeping rooms that morning. Bergerard had already taken care of their luggage. They would ride for Paris and stay at the général’s house in rue de la Chaussée-d’Antin for a fortnight while he completed various duties (and, though he feared the encounter, dealt with his wife). They’d then travel to Bordeaux and board a ship bound for the French colony of Guyane, in far-off South America.

In the coach, Général Fourés reached over and squeezed Elisabeth’s hand. She turned her blossoming, youthful face towards him. The général felt like a young man eloping. Years fell away and the thrill was bright through his flesh, his bones. The horses’ hooves clattered on the road like iron drum rolls. He hadn’t told Elisabeth that his new posting was a demotion, but right now, by God, what the hell did that matter?

A WALK IN THE WOODS

The way it happened: Krüger, returning from his walk, came through the trees and saw Wesley Lewis Jr in the clearing before the carriage. The American appeared to be kneeling on the ground and bent over. Krüger’s mind took the image in lazily (had the American found something on the ground? Was he praying?) but within a few more steps he knew there was something unaccountable in it.

Then Krüger began to run.