“That’s not the point. If everyone felt as you do, we would be damned.”
“We are damned anyway, are we not?”
“Not if we believe in free will. Do you think our life is ordained from the time we are
born?”
“To some degree. We are given bodies, our birthplace and our station in life, but that
does not mean that we cannot change. We can become anything we want to be.”
“My point exactly. That is why we must fight the Nazis.”
She looked at him. “Because God is on our side?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“If there is a God,” Noelle answered reasonably, “and He created them, then He must
be on their side, also.”
In October, the first anniversary of Noelle’s play, the backers gave a party for the cast
at Tour d’Argent. There was a mixture of actors, bankers and influential businessmen. The
guests were mostly French, but there were a dozen Germans at the party, a few of them in
uniform, all of them except one with French girls. The exception was a German officer in
his forties, with a long, lean intelligent face, deep green eyes and a trim, athletic body. A
narrow scar ran from his cheekbone to his chin. Noelle was aware that he had been
watching her all evening although he had not come near her.
“Who is that man?” she casually asked one of the hosts.
He glanced over at the officer who was sitting alone at a table sipping champagne,
then turned to Noelle in surprise. “It is strange you should ask. I thought he was a friend of
yours. That is General Hans Scheider. He is on the General Staff.” Noelle remembered the
roses and the card. “Why did you think he was a friend of mine?” she asked.
The man appeared flustered. “I naturally assumed…I mean, every play and motion
picture produced in France must be approved by the Germans. When the censor tried to
stop your new movie from being made, the General personally stepped in and gave his
approval.”
At that moment Armand Gautier brought someone to meet Noelle and the
conversation changed.
Noelle paid no further attention to General Scheider.
The next evening when she arrived at her dressing room, there was one rose in a
small vase with a little card that said: “Perhaps we should start smaller. May I see you?
Hans Scheider.”
Noelle tore up the note and threw the flower into the wastebasket.
After that night Noelle became aware that at almost every party she and Armand
Gautier attended, General Scheider was there. He always remained in the background