thirty-four

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Chapitre trente-quatre
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She paced back and forth from the window to the mantle and back to the window again. Downstairs, there was havoc, soldiers littering every intersection, every bend and turn, on the lookout for something. Someone, perhaps.

It was afternoon now and Isra hadn't been able to eat or sit down since she had gotten home this morning. She kept relaying the scene of Jacques, Gabriel, Emil, and Lea being dragged out of the shop and onto the street. It appeared that the place had been raided in search of communists. After all, Hans did warn her that no good would come of the assassination of a top German official, and her association with communists was a death sentence.

He had stuck to his promise and saved her from receiving the same fate as those four.

She felt extremely guilty for being relieved, and yet she felt rotten for having been the one to clue Hans in on their gathering place at the shop. She was as much to blame for their destruction as the Germans.

Breaking from her pacing, Isra wandered toward the kitchen for a drink of water to moisten her throat when somebody knocked at her door. Believing that it was Hans, she rushed toward it, undid the lock, and threw it open.

To her surprise, the visitor was a blonde woman she recognized - Colette.

"Colette?" Isra's voice carried a note of astonishment.

The woman's lips pinched into a tight smile. "Isra, may I come in?"

"Of course," she replied, stepping aside to allow Colette into her apartment. She couldn't help but wonder how Colette had discovered her address, her unease settling in like an unwelcome guest.

Colette's eyes wandered around the apartment, and she offered a compliment, her words leaving Isra feeling uncomfortable. "This is a lovely home you have."

"Thank you. I'm pleased to see you. I was on my way to work today, and the whole street was swarmed with officers. They took them all from the shop."

Colette's steps carried her to the window, her gaze focused on something outside, leaving Isra to watch her movements. "Did you not go in today?" she asked.

However, Colette remained silent, her thoughts veiled.

"Colette?" She moved to stand by the sofa, debating whether she should approach the blonde.

"I saw you this morning," was all her friend uttered.

Isra's stomach tangled itself in knots. "What do you mean? From where?"

She whirled around, features stormy. "Speaking to an officer. I saw you, Isra."

Her chest tightened. "Well, yes, he asked to see my papers. I had no choice but to show them to him."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it is. Colette," she said, exasperated, "what's the matter? Everyone we know was arrested today. They're in deep trouble. What's the point of all these questions? It won't solve anything."

Colette's skepticism remained potent, and her sharp gaze seemed to dissect Isra's every word. "Do you know why we do what we do?"

Isra recounted the conversation with Hans, from the request for her papers to their brief exchange, wondering what this question had to do with anything. "I don't understand--"

"We're fighting for our country. We're defending France from them, from those vermin, those Germans. Every time we meet, every decision we make, it's for the future of our nation. We resist not out of hatred, but out of love for France, for the hope that one day, we'll be free from their tyranny. But this struggle is not just about us. It's about the generations that will come after us, who deserve to live in a France that is truly free."

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