Page:Storm Over Paris.pdf/313

herself to a sitting position, and managed to bring a faint smile to her lips. Her eyes glowed with a strange light.

"New life? What new life?" she asked eagerly. "Where?"

"The whole world's pulsing with it!" Pierre exclaimed. "Why, wherever you look, you see wives getting ready to deliver babies-you can hear them squealing right here across the hall. It's a good thing they didn't put you in the maternity ward!" he added with an effort at humor.

"Of course, there's a new life," he went on gaily. "You ought to see how the Parisian girls chew gum! They actually blow balloons in the air. Then, there's the black market, for instance-run by lily-white hands."

Pierre lit another cigarette and settled back comfortably in his chair. His eyes twinkled with gayety. "Oh, yes, it almost slipped my mind. Cecile, our little stenographer, got married. She married an American officer." Then his face sobered again. "And yes," he went on, dropping his mask of jollity, "the reactionaries are creeping out of their holes and trying to force the Resistance into the background. The old forces of darkness are getting back in the saddle." He noticed a shadow flitting across her face. "That's old stuff," she said.

"And what about the Red Army in Warsaw-is that ancient news too? And do you know that the Allies have crossed the Elbe? That the British Air Force is smashing the German industry? And that I, Pierre Chartier, want to marry you?"

Anna sank back on her pillow, pale and embarrassed. She lay quietly, brooding-and then sat up again.

"No, Pierre," she said, her voice tense and low. "I'm tied down. I am not free. My duty is elsewhere. I have two orphans on my hands, see?"

Pierre eyed her, his features drawn in a painful surprise.