“I asked him several questions. He said Dietrich mentioned me in Vienna in 1942. Dietrich was in Norway, Sweden, and Switzerland in ’42, but not Vienna. There was no underground pastors’ conference that year. And despite my questions, it was clear he was used to doing most of the asking. Not since the gathering at the count’s have I felt such probing persistency of interrogation. I tell you, Marion, I am all but certain I have just been in the presence of the Gestapo.”

Marion caught her breath and turned pale.

“Oh, Heinrich—”

“Don’t be anxious, my dear,” said the baron reassuringly. “We will take all necessary care and vigilance.”

The baron said no more. But from that moment on, his prayers began to take a new turn.

82 The Three Girls

82

The Three Girls

Two days later, before retiring, Sabina had asked her father permission to show the rabbi’s daughters the garden.

“You know the rule, my dear,” her father replied. “None of our guests must be seen. Even the day workers know nothing.”

“I know, Papa. I thought if we went early.”

“How early?” he asked, frowning.

“However early you say.”

“If you must, take them at first light. But do not be out too long. The workers begin arriving at six.”

Not since Matthew’s visits had Sabina enjoyed any guests more than Rabbi Wissen’s daughters. She had never known girls of their character and depth. How different they were from her cousin Brigitte! A oneness of spirit had sprung up between them almost the night they had arrived, and now, more than two years later, she felt she’d known them both all her life. Though she was several years older, and in many respects they looked up to her as an older sister, they had become cherished friends as well. There was no doubt Sabina was a woman now, though the playful streak of her being would keep her delightfully childlike even at eighty.

Like her father and mother, Sabina was keenly conscious of their own relationship to these people—this chosen race—and she rejoiced at the privilege of being part of that ancient Hebrew stock. It was a humble privilege to be both Jew and Christian, and Sabina blessed both her mother and her father for the heritage given her.

She was awake even before the first light of day snuck through the window of her bedroom. She dressed quickly, put on her outdoor shoes to protect against the dampness of the morning, and then walked quickly through the corridors up to the second floor, where she awakened Ursula and Gisela.

“Papa says we may go out to the garden,” she whispered, “if you would still like to.”

They sprang from their beds in a flash. The wide eyes and eager expressions of the sisters was all the answer she needed. The enthusiasm in their face at the thought of being out-of-doors again was almost more than they could contain.