“Your call. I can’t really say. I’m not going to alarm them.” I indicated the main house. “I’ll stay up and keep an eye open, just in case.”

“Then it might be better if everyone stays as they are, business as usual, so no one gets nervous. I’m guessing you don’t want to scare off the birds either.”

That was an insightful comment. Daniel cottoned on quick. As far as I was concerned the sooner this got resolved, the better. If I evacuated the civilians, the enemy might notice and come more prepared. If it was business as usual at Brumaire, that would tell another story. “Yep. Could be.” I looked outside. It was still bright and sunny out after six p.m. Late June. “What time does it get dark now?”

“Twenty two hundred hours, give or take.”

I grunted. If they came, they’d come at night, in which case the window of opportunity for attack would be relatively short. Four, five hours of darkness. No more. “Might be a good idea to take a nap.”

Daniel nodded. “Thanks for the advice.”

“My pleasure. I’ll come down before ten to tuck you in.”

I didn’t wait for his response, went out and closed the door behind me. Daniel was solid enough. I walked up towards the house. Boots crunching on gravel. I felt energized. The bare limestone cliff face was a straight drop of around fifteen yards. On top there was brush and small trees, going back into the woods.

Nazari was in the dining room setting the table for three. She told me that Maria was giving Gilles a bath. Apparently he wasn’t doing very well. I thought about his exertions the other night and how he had gotten all excited. Probably wasn’t good for him to get his blood up.

Simone was in the kitchen washing lettuce in a sink filled with water. When I came in to see her, she began talking about the salad. “You see Tom, we use very cold water, you know why?”

“No, ma’am, why?”

“To keep the salad firm. There is nothing worse to a French person than salad that is not firm.”

“That makes a lot of sense. Why would anyone like salad that wasn’t firm?”

She looked at me strangely. “Are you making fun of me, Tom?”

“Not at all, ma’am.”

“Do you like French cheese?”

“Sure.”

“Good. Because I went to the cheese shop today.”

I let her speak a little longer and observed her, while engaging when I had to. Madame Vaugeois was dealing with the situation by accepting certain things. She accepted that I was there now, helping to resolve a situation that had begun for her with the attack on Gilles in the winter.