“Oui, monsieur?”

“I said ‘That's baseball.’”

The chauffeur nodded with a blank stare and they drove to the office.





This wasn't like their Washington life, when as the Ambassadress she was an integral part of his social life, entertaining, playing hostess, giving small dances and black-tie dinners, standing in receiving lines at his side. Here, more often than not, he went alone, and it was more the exception than the rule that he took her with him. Her entire life centered around the girls now, and when she finally saw Armand at night, he was almost too tired to talk to her. He would eat dinner and go to bed, exhausted, and he was invariably asleep within seconds of his head touching the pillow. It was a lonely life for her now, and she longed for their days in Washington or London or Vienna. This was a whole new life, and she didn't like it, and despite her efforts not to complain, he sensed it. She was like a little wilting flower in an untended garden, and it made him feel desperately guilty, but things were beginning to happen. France was coming awake to the danger of Hitler, and although they were still certain that they were safe in France, there was a certain heightened sense of protection and preparation. He felt alive again as he participated in endless meetings. It was a good time for him, but a rough time for her, and he knew it, but there was very little he could do about it. He didn't even have time to take her out for an occasional dinner.