They fell silent and found themselves staring at the slow-moving orange fish in the pond in front of them. It was the first lengthy break in the conversation.

Matthew found himself positively enchanted with this vivacious young German. She was so alive, it could not help but be contagious. He felt that he was being exposed to a whole new world by her way of viewing things, things he realized he had never thought much about before.

Unconsciously he began tossing crumbs from the unfinished piece of bread in his hand into the pond, then watched as the fish swam up to nibble at them.

“Are you interested in politics and current affairs?” Sabina asked after a minute or two.

“Yes, actually I am,” replied Matthew. “That’s what my father talks about. But you’re not, are you?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Girls rarely are.”

“You’re not lumping me in with everyone else, are you?” laughed Sabina.

“How could I! No, you’re about as different as they come.”

“How am I supposed to take that?” she said with mock affront.

“Entirely as a compliment, I promise. But are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Interested in politics and the world?”

“A little. Not near so much as you, I would think, with what your father does. Are you going to follow his footsteps when you’re older?”

“I’d like to go into politics, maybe even run for office someday. Or maybe I’ll be a diplomat like my father, who knows? But I do want to work for my government in some way.”

“You must really like it.”

“You talk about loving the sea, the mountains, the out-of-doors. I love the thrill of events, everything happening right in front of you, being part of them while they’re going on, watching important decisions being made. It’s stimulating and exciting!”

“You must know a lot of important men back in your country.”

“I don’t know, I’ve never thought about it. I did meet FDR after my father’s appointment.”

“FDR. What does that mean?”

“FDR—Franklin Delano Roosevelt. He’s our president.”

“You’ve actually met him?”

“Not such a big deal. You could probably meet your president too.”

“Hitler? I’m not sure I’d want to. Papa has met him. He said he shivered when they shook hands.”

Suddenly a voice sounded behind them.

“Why, Sabina, dear—why haven’t you introduced me to your friend?”

They both turned, then rose from the bench.

“Hello, Brigitte,” said Sabina in a gracious tone, speaking in their native language. “This is Matthew McCallum. He’s from the United States.”

“I’m happy to meet you,” said Matthew, also in German, standing up.

Brigitte held out her hand daintily, apparently expecting Matthew to kiss it. Matthew took it briefly, ignoring the girl’s coquettish smile and attempt to catch his eyes, then let it go without raising it to his mouth.