“Good,” her mother observed with satisfaction.
‘‘Several times he asked me to slow down a little, ostensibly because of the darkness. Once he asked me in a hoarse voice to stop. He put his hand to his heart, he was on his last legs. I shone my flashlight in his face. He looked so ghastly that even I was terrified and took a step backward. If he had had the strength or the courage, it’s me he would have killed.”
“But he hasn’t got the strength or the courage.”
“I know. That’s what reassured me a little. We started off again. We arrived close to the inn at daybreak. I had no difficulty in finding the spot I had thought of as the most suitable for an ambush—a dense thicket, traversed by the path leading from the house. Bergen was bound to come that way. Close by there are some outcrops of rock overlooking the wood and
affording a view of the front of the house. We climbed to the top of one of them, after preparing a hide-out down below. He followed me like an automaton and kept shivering all the time.”
“Shivering,” her mother echoed.
“He flopped down on the ground, no longer capable of assuming a bold front. I felt he was on the point of collapse. I had never seen him in such a pitiful condition. His lips moved as though he wanted to say something, and he looked at me imploringly. I thought—yes, for several seconds I thought he was going to make a clean breast of everything. He was lying slightly on one side, his hand to his chest and trembling from head to foot.”
“Go on,” her mother exclaimed impatiently, without sharing the emotion her daughter felt at the recollection of this scene.
“Then he pulled himself together . .
Her mother broke in severely:
“You should have harried him, pressed home your advantage.”
“I didn’t have time to. He recovered his self-possession as the sun began to rise over the forest. He managed to sit up again. I could see he was making a desperate effort. He began keeping a close watch on the inn. The front door swung open and Bergen came out, alone. I had had him described to me—a wizened little man with short, stumpy legs. It was he, all right. He went through the garden and disappeared into the wood. In less than ten minutes he would be right below us. We just had time to climb down from our observation post, then we hid behind a bush on the edge of the path. He was bound to pass less than six feet away.”
“What was Arvers’ behavior like at that stage?”
“It struck me as rather strange. Whereas he was almost fainting five minutes before, he now seemed quite calm and almost determined. He took the wire out of his pocket and stretched it in his hands as though to test its strength. But I’m sure—in
fact, I realized later—that he had already made up his mind not to go through with it. This show of determination was sheer pretense. All he was thinking of was the excuse he would have to give me.”
“I’m sure you're right.”
“But at that moment he looked like a new man, and I wondered if he might not really see the thing through.”
“No chance of that!” her mother muttered. “I can see it all as clearly as though I had been there myself.”
“It was only when I heard Bergen’s footsteps approaching that I saw through his little game. At this point his expression changed and he tapped his forehead as though a sudden thought had just flashed through his mind. All this was only designed to cloak his insufficiency.
“When he saw Bergen fifty yards off, he seized me by the arm. I tried to slip away, but he got a firmer grip on me, knocked me over, lay down on top of me so as to pin me to the ground, and whispered in my ear: ‘Whatever you do, don’t move. It has only just struck me. We mustn’t. It’s impossible.’
“I was wild with anger. I felt like jumping up and pouncing on the German myself, just to see what he would do.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I couldn’t. He was pressing down on me with all his weight, and his hand was clamped over my mouth. Bergen went by, walking very quickly, without being
aware of our presence.
“He waited for some time before releasing me. When he was sure the German was out of earshot he spoke to me under his breath, assuming an air of assurance that infuriated me.
"‘It would have been sheer lunacy,’ he said. ‘Our eagerness made us lose our heads. Think of the reprisals such an incident would provoke throughout the whole district.’
“ ‘I thought you had weighed all the risks,’ I retorted. ‘Bergen’s existence endangers thousands, possibly millions, of human lives.’
“Those were the very words he had used. His face turned scarlet. He looked slightly put out for a moment, but went on vehemently:
“ ‘It doesn’t matter about us. We don’t count. We’ve already staked our lives. But do you realize the Ger- mans would shoot half the people in your village, which happens to be the nearest one? And have you thought about your mother?”
“This was obviously just an excuse. Even so, all the scorn I managed to put into my expression did nothing to alter the situation. He still managed to get away with it.”