Jean-Luc nodded.

Lisette felt a lump in her throat. “We’ll miss you. But we understand.”

“Do you think Palomar will keep the peace around here, the way he did with the Italians?” he asked.

“He said he would find a way to get along with the Germans,” Lisette said. Sometimes her husband’s compliance with the invaders bothered her, but she never said anything. She didn’t want him watching her too closely, because she didn’t want him to figure out the truth about her photography work for the partisans and her laboratory work with Toselli, making penicillin.

Perhaps Didier, too, was engaged in secret work. Perhaps while appearing to cooperate with the invaders, her husband was actually helping the resistance. He had once said he believed in keeping his friends close, and keeping his enemies closer. That might be the reason he had been so agreeable when the new German marshal billeted an officer and three lieutenants at Sauveterre.

She returned home that evening to find a commotion in the courtyard. To her horror, the garden was filled with German soldiers, laughing and drinking Sauveterre wine as if it were water. A couple of brown-shirted soldiers were juggling hand grenades.

She rushed into their midst. “Stop this right now. You are guests in our home. I forbid you to behave this way.”

“Easy now,” said Colonel von Drumpf, swirling his wine in a goblet. “We are having a little celebration in honor of your good husband’s promotion.”

The group of Germans parted and there stood Didier, dressed from head to toe in a smart black beret, a black-and-red shirt, and matching trousers—the distinctive livery of the Milice—the despised Vichy police—Frenchmen preying on Frenchmen in order to save their own skin.

“I don’t understand.” Lisette feared that she did understand. She felt sick to her stomach. “What sort of promotion?”

“You heard the colonel. We’re celebrating,” said Didier, slipping his arm around her, a gesture more of possession than affection.

“He is the captain of the Milice,” said von Drumpf. “He is sworn to protect and uphold the law. And what a handsome couple the two of you make,” he added. “Both with that lovely fair coloring. I hope you are blessed with many beautiful children.”

It was shocking to hear the Nazis talk of the blond-haired, blue-eyed ideal. They seemed to be obsessed with their notion of a pure Aryan race, regarding humans like livestock, selected for physical traits.

She felt Palomar’s grip on her tighten, though his expression never wavered. Thus far they had failed to conceive a baby, and it was not for lack of trying on his part. He came to her almost nightly, but each month there was disappointment. There was no soul or grace in their coupling, only a grim sense of purpose.

“Go and fetch your camera, chérie,” said Didier. His lips and teeth were stained with wine. “You can photograph this moment for posterity.”

She backed away in horror, somehow managing to keep her expression neutral. “I’ll only be a moment,” she said, and hurried into the house. She rushed to the washroom just in time to throw up.