Julien noticed an odd expression on Victor’s face as he spoke of the housemaid. “You and Marianne? Seriously?”

Victor shrugged, then signaled for his brother to get in the car. “Why not?”

“Our mother would have had a fit.” True enough, even though Marianne was only five years older, she was older all the same, uneducated and not Jewish. Both brothers had mentioned their mother, which brought up fears Julien usually repressed. “Do you know what happened after they were taken?” he dared to ask.

Victor shook his head. Julien really was something of a fool if he still held out hope for their parents. “You must have figured it out. They went on the trains.”

There was no more talk, and after a while they pulled down the long rutted road that led to the farm. Marianne was waiting on the porch. She ran to the car and hugged Julien and told him she would never have recognized him. He, too, had changed. He was tall and lanky, nearly a man.

“So this is where you came from,” Julien said.

“It is.” She looked around and threw her arms out and he could tell that she was glad to be back. He saw the way she looked at Victor, and the way Victor looked back at her.

Marianne’s father was out at his beehives, dressed in his white beekeeper’s suit, including a hat with white netting.

“He looks like a ghost, doesn’t he?” Julien said.

“He’s anything but,” Victor said. He whistled and waved to the old man, and Monsieur Félix waved back. “You’ll see when Marianne and I go off. He’s a tough old bird.”

“This is your brother?” Monsieur Félix said when he came in for dinner. The brothers had settled in, taking over the front parlor. Julien noticed that Victor stored his rucksack in an old wooden bureau.

“He’s the one,” Victor told Marianne’s father.

Julien stood and shook his hand.

“I’ll teach you about bees if I think you’re smart enough to learn,” Monsieur Félix said. “We’ll keep you busy here.”

The brothers slept on quilts in the parlor, but halfway through the night, Julien realized he was alone. Victor had made his way to Marianne’s room and Julien could hear the sound of their voices and moans. It was a good thing the old man was half-deaf. Julien felt a sort of anger rise inside him as he lay on his back in a thin strip of moonlight that streamed through the window. He was fed up with being treated like a boy, while Victor did as he pleased.

The following day, Victor and Marianne both set off, Marianne to once again shepherd children to the border, and Victor to complete some business for the Armée Juive, a secret Jewish militia that he clearly didn’t wish to discuss.