back, and to do so would have raised suspicion; he stood aside and waited till the German had finished his purchases. Then, as he stood there in the background, he saw that the German was the orderly from the hospital.
A little bundle of clothes lay on the counter before him, a yellow jersey, a pair of brown children's shorts, socks, and a vest. 'Cinquante quatre, quatre vingt dix,' said the stout old woman at the counter.
The German did not understand her rapid way of speech. She repeated it several times; then he pushed a little pad of paper towards her, and she wrote the sum on the pad for him. He took it and studied it. Then he wrote his own name and the unit carefully beneath. He tore off the sheet and gave it to her.
'You will be paid later,' he said, in difficult French. He gathered up the garments.
She protested. 'I cannot let you take away the clothes unless I have the money. My husband - he would be very much annoyed. He would be furious. Truly, monsieur - that is not possible at all.'
The German said stolidly: 'It is good. You will be paid. That is a good requisition.'
She said angrily: 'It is not good at all, that. It is necessary that you should pay with money.'
The man said: 'That is money, good German money. If you do not believe it, I will call the Military Police. As for your husband, he had better take our German money and be thankful. Perhaps he is a Jew? We have a way with Jews.'
The woman stared at him, dumb. There was a momentary silence in the shop; then the hospital orderly gathered up his purchases and swaggered out. The woman remained staring after him, uncertainly fingering the piece of paper.
Howard went forward and distracted her. She roused herself and showed him children's pants. With much advice from Rose on the colour and design he chose a pair for Sheila, paid three francs fifty for them, and put them on her in the shop.
The woman stood fingering the money. 'You are not German, monsieur?' she said heavily. She glanced down at the money in her hand.
He shook his head.
'I thought perhaps you were. Flemish?'
It would never do to admit his nationality, but at any moment one of the children might betray him. He moved towards the door. 'Norwegian,' he said at random. 'My country has also suffered.'
'I thought you were not French,' she said. 'I do not know what will become of us.'
He left the shop and went a little way up the Paris road, hoping to avoid the people. German soldiers were still pouring into the town. He walked about for a time in the increasing crowd, tense and fearful of betrayal every moment. At last it was six o'clock; he went back to the hospital.
He left the children by the church. 'Keep them beside you,' he said to Rose. 'I shall only be at the hospital a little while. Stay here till I come back.'
He went into the tent, tired and worn with apprehension. The orderly saw him coming. 'Wait here,' he said. 'I will tell the Herr Oberstabsarzt.'
The man vanished into the tent. The old man stood waiting at the entrance patiently. The warm sun was pleasant now, in the cool of the evening. It would have been pleasant to stay free, to get back to England. But he was tired now, very, very tired. If only he could see the children right, then he could rest.
There was a movement in the tent, and the doctor was there, leading a child by the hand. It was a strange, new child, sucking a sweet. It was spotlessly clean, with short cropped hair trimmed close to its head with clippers. It was a little boy. He wore a yellow jersey and a pair of brown shorts, socks, and new shoes. The clothes were all brand new, and all seemed vaguely familiar to the old man. The little boy smelt very strong of yellow soap and disinfectant.
He wore a clean white dressing on his neck. He smiled at the old man.
Howard stared at him, dumbfounded. The doctor said genially; 'So! My orderly has given him a bath. That is better?'
The old man said: 'It is wonderful, Herr Doktor. And the clothes, too. And the dressing on his neck. I do not know how to thank you.'
The doctor swelled visibly. 'It is not me that you must thank, my friend,' he said with heavy geniality. 'It is Germany! We Germans have come to bring you peace, and cleanliness, and the ordered life that is true happiness. There will be no more war, no more wandering for you now. We Germans are your friends.'
'Indeed,' the old man said faintly, 'we realise that, Herr Doktor.'
'So,' said the man, 'what Germany has done for this boy, she will do for France, for all Europe. A new Order has begun.'
There was rather an awkward silence. Howard was about to say something suitable, but the yellow jersey caught his eye, and the image of the woman in the shop came into his mind and drove the words from his head. He stood hesitant for a minute.
The doctor gave the child a little push towards him. 'What Germany has done for this one little Dutchman she will do for all the children of the world,' he said. 'Take him away. You are his father?'
Fear lent speed to the old man's thoughts. A half-truth was best. 'He is not mine,' he said. 'He was lost and quite alone in Pithiviers. I shall take hun to the convent.'
The man nodded, satisfied with that. 'I thought you might be Dutch yourself,' he said. 'You do not speak like these French.'
It would not do to say he was Norwegian again; it was too near to Germany. 'I am from the south,' he said. 'From Toulouse. But I am staying with my son in Montmirail. Then we got separated in Montargis; I do not know what has become of him. The children I was with are my grandchildren. They are now in the Place. They have been very good children, m'sieur, but it will be good when we can go home.'
He rambled on, getting into the stride of his tale, easily falling into the garrulity of an old man. The doctor turned away rudely. 'Well, take your brat,' he said. 'You can go home now. There will be no more fighting.'
He went back into the tent.
The old man took the little boy by the hand and led him round the church, passing on the other side of the shop that had sold children's clothes. He found Rose standing more or less where he had left her, with Sheila and Pierre. There was no sign of Ronnie.
He said anxiously to her: 'Rose, what has become of Ronnie? Where is he?'
She said: 'M'sieur, he has been so naughty. He wanted to see the tanks, but I told him it was wrong that he should go. I told him, m'sieur, that he was a very, very naughty little boy and that you would be very cross with him, m'sieur. But he ran off, all alone.'
Sheila piped up, loud and clear, in English: 'May I go and see the tanks, too, Mr Howard?'
Mechanically, he said in French: 'Not this evening. I told you that you were all to stay here.'
He looked around, irresolute. He did not know whether to leave the children where they were and go and look for Ronnie, or to take them with him. Either course might bring the other children into danger. If he left them they might get into further trouble. He took hold of the pram and pushed it ahead of him. 'Come this way,' he said.
Pierre edged up to him and whispered: 'May I push?'
It was the first time that the old man had heard the little boy volunteer a remark. He surrendered the handle of the pram. 'Of course,' he said. 'Rose, help him push.'
He walked beside them towards the parked tanks and lorries, anxiously scanning the crowd. There were German soldiers all about the transport, grey, weary men, consciously endeavouring to fraternise with a suspicious population. Some of them were cleaning up their clothes, some tending their machines. Others had little phrase books in their hands, and these were trying to make conversation with the crowd. The French peasants seemed sullen and uncommunicative.
Sheila said suddenly: 'There's Ronnie, over there!'
The old man turned, but could not see him. 'Where is he?'
Rose said: 'I see him - oh, m'sieur, what a naughty little boy. There, m'sieur, right inside the tank, there - with the German soldiers!'
A cold fear entered Howard's heart. His eyesight for long distances was not too good. He screwed his eyes up and peered in the direction Rose was pointing. True enough, there he was. Howard could see his little head
