"I'm afraid he'll take it hard."
The hallway of the hospital seemed very cold.
"Of course he'll take it hard, but he has fight in him ... he'll win out ... now he has you, my dear."
"It's not as simple as that."
"Not many things are simple in life. But with rest, with love ... and now you, you must get some rest. Go to bed. You can't rest sitting in a chair. You can phone me at any time. Let me give you our number--my extension. You should stay at the Racine Hotel ... the Nazis have cleared out of town, I am told. Let me phone the hotel for you ... come, my dear, I must jot down my number ... come..."
Jeannette thought it was a long way to the hotel: her overnight bag was light but the blocks added up when she followed Rue Carot by mistake; she had been told to follow the Rue Carrefour ... in minutes she registered and unpacked in a second floor room; in minutes she was sound asleep, to wake in an hour or so, refreshed.
The sun was setting. In front of the hotel a man was polishing his car. She saw no soldiers on the street. She ate in a cafe and found the food better than the food at the hospital in Ermenonville. Rethel, old, walled, citadel shaped, was more interesting without the rain: there were neat shop windows; in the tiny square there were pigeons, benches and a fountain with a boy on a stone pedestal, a sheep by his side. In a corner store, near the Racine, she spotted a dress in the window; with a few alterations it would fit, orlon, bright, bright daffodil, tightly belted, the belt-line high. Buying it, she felt encouraged.
It was fun altering it in her room, trying it on, powdering herself, lolling, street lamps coming on, the sky trying to make something of its stars.
Carrefour--the street sign read under her window: sitting in a rocker she read the name many times.
In the lobby, she bought a morning paper, hoping for good news. In the taxi, spreading the sheets, she read: