V for Vengeance (7 page)

It was not until July the 11th, the day upon which President Lebrun resigned, thus formally bringing an end to the Third Republic, and, having formed a new Government of twelve Ministers, Marshal Pétain assumed the powers of a Dictator, that the Russian had rallied enough strength to ask what had happened to him. Madeleine told him about his accident, then gave him a brief account of the events that had followed and of how France was now out of the war. He made no comment, as he still had some difficulty in talking clearly, but
she could see from the expression in his quick eyes that he understood all she said.

In the early stages he had experienced little pain, but as he began to recover he was afflicted with the most agonising headaches, and the only thing that seemed to bring him some relief was for Madeleine to sit on the edge of his bed and hold one of his hands in hers. She knew that in that way some people have the power of taking pain from others, but she experienced no suffering as a result of it herself and simply assumed that from the clasp of her hand he was able to draw a certain fortitude which enabled him the better to endure the dull, throbbing ache which so often tormented him.

Pierre continued to come in and help her when she had to move him, and one day towards the end of July he came upon them unexpectedly, while she was sitting on the edge of the Russian's bed, holding his hand.

The young artist said nothing at the time, but afterwards, when he and Madeleine were together in the sitting-room, he suddenly burst out:

‘You—you haven't fallen in love with this fellow, have you?'

‘Good gracious, no!' she laughed. ‘Whatever makes you think I might have done that?'

‘Well, you were sitting on his bed just now, holding his hand!'

‘My dear Pierre, there's nothing in that. He says that it helps him bear the pain when he has these appalling headaches, so I often do it.'

‘That's not his reason. It's because he's in love with you!' Pierre exclaimed truculently.

‘What nonsense! You're imagining things!'

‘Oh no, I'm not! Anyone could tell that who saw you together. He never takes his eyes off your face whenever you're in his room. If you take my tip you'll watch your step now that he's getting a bit stronger and stop this hand-holding, or the next thing that'll happen is he'll be trying to kiss you.'

Madeleine had never even thought of Stefan Kuporovitch in that way before. Georges' death was still much too near for her as yet to feel the least interested in any man; even Pierre's tentative compliments and admiring glances during these weeks had passed her by almost unnoticed. But now that he made
this definite allegation she suddenly became conscious that she had known it all along. Ever since Kuporovitch had been strong enough to take a renewed interest in life he had shown all the symptoms which she recognised from past patients who had fallen for her.

She did not know if she were glad or sorry. If it were likely to complicate their relations it would be a bore, and she knew that he was in his late forties, so of an older generation. For her part, even if Georges had not been constantly in her thoughts still, there could be nothing between the Russian and herself. On the other hand, like any healthy girl, Madeleine liked admiration, and in these dark days when so many of her friends had disappeared it was comforting to think that she had a normally strong and capable man like Stefan upon whom to lean. Pierre, she knew, was eager enough to give her his affection, but she had never had much confidence in him as a support in times of stress, and she knew only too well that if the war continued many unpleasant situations might have to be faced in the grim weeks that lay ahead. However, she had no intention of disclosing her thoughts to Pierre; so she said:

‘
Mon ami
, you're letting your imagination run away with you, and I'm in no need of advice. I've had plenty of experience in handling patients who would like to become amorous, but in this case I'm sure there will be no need for me to employ it. What is more, it is none of your business if I hold the poor fellow's hand or not.'

He shrugged. ‘Oh, well, don't be offended. I wouldn't even have mentioned the matter except that I'm so fond of you and don't want to see you bothered. I
am
frightfully fond of you—you know that, Madeleine, don't you?'

‘Of course I do!' She laughed lightly, laying a hand upon his arm. ‘You've been a splendid friend to me, and I'm sure that you know that I'm fond of you.'

He caught her hand and an eager glance came into his dark eyes. ‘D'you really mean that, Madeleine?'

She withdrew her hand quickly. ‘Certainly I do; but please, Pierre, don't put any wrong construction on what I said. I've nothing to give to any man except friendship, now.'

He nodded. ‘I don't mind waiting. Later, perhaps, you'll
feel differently. Look here, now that Kuporovitch is better, what about coming out for a little dinner and to do a cinema this evening?'

It was over six weeks since she had been out of the house at night, and she hesitated for a moment. ‘Ought we to, with the Germans here?'

‘Why not? They're behaving quite decently; there have been awfully few cases of their interfering with anybody.'

‘I know, but I didn't mean that. Somehow it doesn't seem quite right to go to places of amusement during the occupation.'

‘Oh, I don't know. There's no point in cutting off one's nose to spite one's face, and, after all, they may be here for months yet. It would be silly to coop ourselves up indefinitely.'

‘I suppose you're right,' Madeleine agreed after a moment. ‘All right then. I'd like to come. Will you come across for me about seven o'clock?'

That evening he took her to Emil's in the Rue Ventadour just off the Avenue de l'Opéra. It was not one of the famous places patronised in normal times by the wealthier visitors to Paris, but one of those really excellent French restaurants in which Paris abounds, having its own specialities and a good solid clientèle of middle-class French people, to whom good eating is almost a religion.

The cooking now suffered somewhat from the shortage of butter and lack of cream, which was beginning to be generally felt in Paris; but as yet there was still no appreciable shortage of food or wine. Prices, however, had advanced considerably, and Madeleine was horribly shocked when she saw the size of Pierre's bill, as she knew that he was not rich. With a little grimace she told him that she would not have had so many dishes if she had realised how expensive everything was.

Smiling across at her, he replied that he did not mind a bit, because it was such a pleasure to take her out and see her enjoying herself again. Then he went on to explain why it was that prices had risen so steeply.

The Army of Occupation was under the strictest discipline, and there had been no cases of looting at all. They paid for everything they wanted, but, in actual fact, the whole of Occupied France was being looted systematically and with
diabolical cunning. The Germans had now pinned the franc to the mark at the rate of twenty francs to one mark, and all the French shopkeepers, hotel proprietors, etc., were compelled by law to accept the German soldiers' marks in payment for goods or services. The pre-war rate had been about six francs to the mark, so the new valuation meant that the Germans were able to buy anything that they wanted at less than a third of its proper price, and, of course, in most instances this was far below what the unfortunate French traders had originally paid for their goods wholesale.

To make matters worse, now that France was bearing the cost of the Army of Occupation, Hitler had decreed that his troops should receive a special occupation-bonus which had the effect of more than tripling their pay. In consequence, all the German soldiers had money to burn and were forcing their worthless paper right, left and centre upon their wretched victims in exchange for goods, which they either consumed in gigantic quantities or sent off in huge parcels to their relatives in Germany. Never before had such an ingenious and devilish system been devised for despoiling and bankrupting the people of a conquered nation.

In self-defence the French had been forced to raise their prices wherever possible, hence the size of Pierre's bill. But the Germans were already getting wise to this, and new measures were being taken to institute price-control, so that this systematic beggaring of a nation with its own money, demanded on the excuse of maintaining an Army of Occupation, might go on unhindered.

As Madeleine listened she positively seethed with rage. There were several parties of Germans in the restaurant. They were all drinking champagne and guzzling down a succession of rich dishes. Previously she had been careful to keep her glance averted from them, but now she stared with ill-concealed hatred at the nearest group of soldiers, and if looks could have killed the food they were eating would have choked them. Seeing her fury, Pierre hurried her out into the street; but she had not recovered her equanimity until they reached the Auber Palace in the Boulevard des Italiens, where they meant to see the latest René Clair.

The film was a good one, but the show was spoilt for
Madeleine and many others in the audience by the news-reels that followed, as these, of course, were now selected by order of the German censors. Marshal Goering, who had recently paid a visit to Paris, was shown entering the Hôtel Grillon, which had been taken over as the German Headquarters; and later laying a wreath on the grave of the Unknown Soldier at the Arc de Triomphe. As he had come to Paris largely for the purpose of initiating the new campaign for a
rapprochement
with the French, the fat Marshal was saluting and smiling most genially at everyone. The ceremony seemed to Madeleine a horrible piece of hypocrisy, although, like most people, she quite wrongly credited Goering with a greater respect than his fellow-gangsters for the brave soldiers of the last war. But the thing that made her squirm was another reel in which Laval and a number of other French politicians were shown openly fraternising with a number of German officers.

One or two people got up and left. Madeleine would have liked to do so too, but Pierre showed no sign of moving, and she did not wish to spoil his evening; so she sat on and they saw the second picture—a rather indifferent comedy—after which they went home, as the Paris cinemas were now being kept open as late as in peace-time, and the René Clair film was coming on again.

When they got back she told Pierre how much she had enjoyed herself, although she was not really quite certain if she had or not. She had certainly enjoyed her good dinner and the René Clair film, and it had been a very pleasant change to go out again after all this long time; but Pierre's account of how the Germans were bleeding her country white with their useless paper money, and to see them lording it everywhere and ordering French people about, caused a fresh intensification of her bitterness against them.

June had been a month of tragedy and July a month of suspense, while Paris seemed to hold her breath in fearful anticipation as to the possible results of her captivity; but in August, with certain exceptions, things almost seemed to have gone back to normal, and everywhere people were picking up the threads of their lives again. Rations had been severely cut, and the big stocks of clothes and tinned foods were now rapidly disappearing from the previously well-stocked shops.
The sight of the grey-green uniforms in the streets was a constant reminder of the presence of the enemy, but good order was maintained in the city, and its inhabitants no longer feared for their lives or security; so Paris breathed again.

In spite of German jamming, the Parisians still managed to get most of the British news over their radios, and by early August it was abundantly clear that Britain, if at present quite incapable of materially harming Hitler through lack of arms, had very definitely settled down with grim determination to making the arms, which would at least enable her to defend herself in no mean manner.

For some seven weeks the war had lapsed into a state of almost pre-blitz unreality. Perhaps the Germans were too astonished by the magnitude and swiftness of their success to be able to exploit it fully; or it may have been that their passion and genius for achieving one hundred per cent efficiency in their organisation before making any major step had for once betrayed them into devoting priceless time to preparations which, had they continued to prosecute the war with the utmost intensity without waiting to perfect their future plans in every detail, could have been used to infinitely more advantage; but at last they swung into their stride again, and the long-expected attack, which everyone on the Continent anticipated would administer the
coup de grâce
to Britain, was launched.

From the 8th of August onwards a large part of every news bulletin was devoted to the doings of the Luftwaffe. For a fortnight it concentrated upon Allied shipping and the nearest British ports. Dover harbour was reported as blocked with wrecks, and all the Thanet towns as in ruins. Then the Germans carried raids much farther inland, attacking all the air bases in south and south-eastern England, and penetrating as far as London.

Each night these triumphs were announced over the radio with impressive figures of British planes destroyed both in aerial combat and on the ground. In spite of British counterclaims, it seemed to the people of Paris that this was the beginning of the end of their ex-Ally. It was common knowledge that the Germans were massing a great Army of Invasion all along the Dutch, Belgian and French coasts, and clearly they were only waiting until they had driven the numerically inferior R.A.F. from the skies before despatching the great flotillas which would carry the irresistible panzer divisions across to England. The friends of Britain could only watch and pray.

Stefan Kuporovitch was by now rapidly regaining his strength. As soon as he had recovered his powers of thinking and talking clearly he had expressed the keenest interests in all news, and, having nothing to occupy him, decided to improve his scanty English, so that he might hear at first hand as much of the B.B.C. broadcasts as escaped the German jamming. For the purpose Madeleine bought him a Russian-English primer and dictionary, and each evening, as she spoke English well herself, she gave him a lesson. His concentration
on the subject and the fact that he could spend hours on it each day without interruption enabled him to make rapid progress, so that in quite a short time he was able to understand most of the broadcasts and converse with Madeleine in passable English.