He’d struck Bernard, not once but several times, ignoring his friend’s protests, drawing blood before he knew what he’d done. It was so unlike Julien to be violent, even when provoked, that he ran off afterward, mortified by his own actions, feeling he had somehow proved Bernard right. He had a dark soul, he was bitter and betrayed, and he knew something horrible was coming. He’d been more agitated with himself than with Bernard. For days afterward he couldn’t sleep and was woken by his frantic heart, which served as a reminder of who he might become if he let himself go.

The world was falling apart around them, a dire situation Julien’s parents continued to ignore. Did they not know that at the conference in Evian as far back as 1938, thirty-two countries in the League of Nations had voted not to help Jewish refugees fleeing Germany? Even America had refused to accept 20,000 endangered refugee children. The professor’s head was in the clouds, he was so busy with his work that he never read a newspaper, and their mother was concerned with very little beyond their home and garden. In the minds of the elder Lévis, France would always prevail.

When the professor arrived in the hallway, the visitors rose to their feet, as if they were servants.

“Thank you for having us to your home,” the girl said politely.

“There’s been a misunderstanding,” Professor Lévi began in response, but Ava was quick to interrupt, as if she had no common courtesy.

“You are Madame Kohn’s cousin. That’s why we’re here.”

“Well, yes. But a distant cousin. Hardly related, really. We’ve never actually met.”

“Nothing is misunderstood. You have room. We’ll stay here.”

Ava looked at him in a way that sent a chill down his spine. He knew what was happening in Paris, he wasn’t a fool, after all. Refugees were registered, and many were taken away to labor camps. He simply wanted to protect his family from a fate that was likely impossible to stop.

“Father, they’re our cousins,” Julien reminded him. “No matter how distant.”

There was an expression on Julien’s face the professor didn’t recognize, as if he were the teacher, rather than his own father, the one who knew right from wrong. Professor Lévi felt that if he erred here he might lose his son’s respect entirely. “Of course, then you must be our guests,” he was obliged to say.