Page:Storm Over Paris.pdf/92

students. They made him feel at home in the strange country. He became a member of the German Club, his activities supervised by Fritz Opfenmundt, its president, and leading spirit. He was drilled into the automatic routine of the Club and rendered powerless to assert his will against the desires of his Nazi drill-masters. But the ironic fates had outsmarted them and cast him into the arms of a despised Jewess.

And now she had wiggled out of his grasp-the bitch! His anger melted into fear and then into an overwhelming sympathy. Perhaps she was lying sick in a hospital, perhaps she was dead, perhaps...

His masculine egotism wounded, Eric had lately been going with one girl student after another-only to discover afresh that the emptiness in his heart could never be filled by anyone save Anna. Anna, to him, was the Eternal Feminine, the divine principle of love, and often when he kissed her, he had a terrible desire to drop on his knees and worship her, as millions worshipped the Virgin in a spasm of spiritual rapture. And because he felt she had the cosmic wisdom of heaven, he always kept probing her mind in the hope that she would drop the last veil from her being, and reveal herself to him in all her palpitating beauty.

"What are you thinking of, Anna?" he had once asked as he walked her to the subway.

"You won't understand even if I tell you," she tantalized him.

"Is that so?" Eric had smiled disdainfully.

"I am thinking of the real meaning of certain beliefs that people have."

"Exactly what beliefs do you mean, my pretty little philosopher?"

"There's no use telling you," Anna had insisted. "You're