The serving girl came past the door each day, but she never dared open it. Suzanne had told her firmly that she’d be whipped if she did.

“I don’t want you getting sick as well. You’ve work to do,” she said.

The apprentice once asked Pierre if he thought that the shock of the massacre had caused Simon to fall sick, but Pierre was dismissive of the idea.

“He started looking feverish the afternoon before,” he remarked. “And he certainly never saw anything.”

Each afternoon, however, he and his wife contrived that the house would be safe for the children to come out of the room. Either Pierre would take the apprentice out and Suzanne send the serving girl on an errand that would take her some time, or vice versa. Then, most days, with one or the other parent guarding the door, the two children would come down and go into the yard at the back, where no one could see them, and walk about and get some fresh air. They could even play ball, so long as they spoke only in whispers. In this manner, they usually got out of Simon’s little room for an hour or two each day.

For the rest of the time, however, they had to devise ways of keeping the children amused. Fortunately, the little girl liked to draw. And Simon could read. But within a day or two, her curiosity about what he was doing led to a new game. He taught her the letters of the alphabet.

Constance would make a drawing of a simple object—a cat, a dog, a house—and Simon would write the word in question and, in the lowest whisper, explain to her what sound the letters made, and show her how they were formed. Since they had nothing much else to do, it was not many days before the little girl knew the whole alphabet. Simon was impressed with how quickly she understood things.

After a few days, his mother brought them a checkerboard, and he showed Constance how to play checkers. It took only a couple of days before she could hold her own. Sometimes she beat him.

And so the two children lived their strange and secret life. And each night little Constance would curl up in Simon’s arms and fall asleep, and he would sleep contentedly too, knowing that he was her protector.

Once or twice Uncle Guy came to see Simon’s parents. He was sorry to learn that Simon was unwell, and wanted to come up and see him, but Pierre and Suzanne would tell him that it was better he not. “He’ll be up and about soon enough,” Pierre promised. And although Guy was slightly annoyed at not being allowed to see the boy, there wasn’t much he could do about it.