Chapter 11
Nietzsche
In the morning Quality woke before Ernst and got quietly out
of bed. She went to the bathroom and gazed at her face in the
mirror. Her nose was swollen and her eye was black, but those
things would pass. Her experience in Gurs had prepared her for
this; Ernst did not know that she had been struck before. She
had been caught giving some of her food to a woman who was being
deprived because she had objected to the amatory suggestion of
a guard. Quality had learned from observation how to react.
Absolute fear and subservience was the way to survive, and since
the proprietors did have power, it was no deceit to acknowledge
it. The situation with the interrogating officer had been similar;
he had had to be appeased, and Ernst had done what he had to.
She had even turned her head so that his hand struck the center
of her face instead of the side as he had intended, because she
had known that no token slap would do.
And in the aftermath of that episode, horrified by the damage
he had done without intending, Ernst had finally spoken his heart.
Oh my love! It had come unconsciously, and been blanked
from his own awareness, but not hers. She had tried not to be
seductive, and to uphold the appropriate standards of decorum,
but had seen that he was interested despite his honorable resolve.
At night she had imagined that he was holding her for love rather
than warmth, and almost it had seemed it was true. With her returning
health had come renewed interest in romantic companionship, and
with her solidifying love for Ernst had come the desire to possess
him. She had wanted to tell him, and to offer him whatever he
might want with her. But she knew that he made no commitment
lightly, and that his code was such that the woman he indulged
himself with would be the one he intended to marry. That had
been too much to ask of him, when he could have a licit marriage
and good life with his girlfriend Krista.
Until those words had shown the pointlessness of further pretense.
Ernst had lost his fight to remain true to Krista, which relationship
it seemed had never been wholehearted on his part. Quality had
been freed to declare her own love. She had done so, and had
proceeded to the denouement of which she had dreamed: the complete
realization of his love. What a joy the night had been, despite
her pain of the face.
But now it was the morning after. Had she done right? She wasn't
sure. The intrusion of the SS officer, the threat to her limited
security here, the necessary brutality, and Ernst's revelation
of his love had been in the end exhilarating, and she had done
what her heightened emotion urged. She did not regret their night
of love at all, for herself, but was in doubt about its appropriateness
for him. She had now denied him his chance for a normal German
life.
She completed her business in the bathroom, and returned to the
main room to dress. Ernst was stirring. He opened his eyes and
looked at her.
"Ach, your face!" he said. "I should never have
done that!" He considered briefly. "And then, in your
confusion, I--how could I have--"
She moved to him, and cut him off with a kiss. "I did it,
Ernst," she reminded him. "I asked thee to be with
me, because I love thee and desire thee."
"I, too, with you," he said. "But still, to take
advantage--"
And he felt guilty for his desire! She abandoned her own second
thoughts. "I seduced thee last night. If thee argues, I
shall do it again."
"I must argue, because you are captive, and--"
She kissed him a second time, putting fervor into it. She felt
gay and reckless, glorying in her newfound freedom of expression.
"I gave thee fair warning!" She drew back enough to
draw off her nightgown. Then she lay against him, on top, spreading
her legs to fall down outside his. It was fun being wanton.
All her dreams were coming true.
"Oh Quality, Quality, how I love thee!" he whispered,
hugging her. Then his passion met hers, and they were in the
throes of it, without the hesitation of the night.
"I love thee, I love thee!" she breathed as it took
them. "Now at last I can tell thee!"
"If I had known before--" he gasped.
"Pay attention to thy business," she said teasingly.
"I am! My business is loving thee."
She cut off further dialogue with more kisses. Every time he
tried to talk, she kissed him again. Finally he gave up, and
simply accepted her love.
However, he insisted on one thing. "I must marry thee,
but I have no ring to give thee. I beg thee to accept instead,
as a token of this union, my most precious possession."
"I need no token," she protested.
"But I need for you to have it. It will protect thee from
harm." And he brought out his swastika, silver on a silver
chain.
Quality had severely mixed feelings. To her, the swastika was
an abomination, standing for everything that was evil. Yet she
loved Ernst, and had to accept his gift.
She decided that the silver artifact was in this case not a symbol
of Nazism, but of Ernst's love. As such, it was appropriate for
her to wear. She put the chain over her head and let the swastika
fall to her bosom. "I thank thee, Ernst. I will wear it
always."
"I wish I could marry thee now. But--"
"It is the way of Friends to marry by declaring themselves
before a Meeting, which is a gathering of Friends. We have perhaps
a Meeting of two. We can imagine a silent Meeting to hear our
vows."
He was uncertain. "I do not know the form of such a ceremony."
"The form is as simple as we wish. I take thee, Ernst Best,
to be my husband, and I will be with thee as long as we both shall
live."
"I take thee, Quality Smith, to be my wife, and I will be
with thee as long as we both shall live."
She kissed him. "Normally it is a longer ceremony, but
it will do."
"It will do," he echoed.
But it was morning, and he had to go to work. His work consisted
of assorted technical investigations and reports for Admiral Canaris,
who ran Abwehr. But there was something else, about which he
did not tell her, yet she knew. Something he had to do which
he did not like. Their love had been realized, but the rest of
the world remained grim. She was still a virtual prisoner in
his room, and he was bound by his duty. No one knew what would
come of all this, so they could only enjoy the moment.
Meanwhile she continued to recover, gaining weight and strength.
She suspected that love had as much to do with it as food, but
she abetted it by doing whatever exercises she could manage without
making too much noise. She adjusted her clothing to fit her better,
and brushed her hair out, encouraging it to grow. She spent much
time reading, and gazed out into the pleasant park.
Her face healed. She was almost sorry to see it happen, because
she associated her black eye with Ernst's love. But she knew
he had no joy in that, so for his sake she was glad to recover
her beauty.
Toward the end of January Ernst brought an older officer home
with him. Quality could tell by his manner that Ernst was not
at ease, but had not been able to avoid this. The other man was
tall and impressive, and evidently of very high status. Quality
was immediately afraid of him.
The man's small restless eyes immediately focused on her. She
knew Ernst had had to tell him about her, and was helpless to
prevent what this man might do. But the man did not seem hostile,
merely interested. He spoke rapidly in German. Quality had been
learning German, slowly, but this was way too much for her. She
caught only the word "Fräulein," meaning a young
woman.
Ernst responded, introducing her. "This is Quality Smith,
who speaks no German." Because he spoke carefully, for her
benefit, she could understand. "Quality, this is Reinhard
Heydrich."
Quality felt a shiver of apprehension. She knew that name!
He was the feared head of the Nazi intelligence network. Stories
about him had been rife in Spain and in Gurs. He was said to
be a predatory animal, capable of acting swiftly and ruthlessly,
called by some the blond beast and by others Mister Suspicion,
and by others a criminal of the stature of the devil himself.
He was the Third Reich's evil god of death, the man with the
iron heart. He was also a pathological womanizer. Of all the
people she did not want to encounter, Heydrich was close to the
top of the list.
"I see you know of me," Heydrich said in English.
"Come now, I am not as bad as all that."
"I did not speak of you to her," Ernst said, alarmed.
"I told her nothing."
Heydrich ignored him. He concentrated on Quality, to her discomfort,
seeming to take in every aspect of her. "And you wear the
swastika! That is good; it will protect you, as it protected
him." He paused. "The bruise," he said sharply.
"Who hit you?"
She felt mesmerized. She knew that even had she been one to
lie, it would have been useless to try to fool this man. She
wished that the last vestige of the bruise had faded, or that
she had thought to cover it up with powder. "Ernst hit me.
Before he gave me the swastika."
Heydrich turned a sharp glance on Ernst. "This is not the
conduct of an officer of the SS! I forbid it! You must treat
this pretty young woman with the utmost courtesy at all times.
Can you remember that without a memo?"
"Ja," Ernst said, abashed.
"After all, in love and in revenge woman is more barbarous
than man. You do not wish her to seek your downfall." He
glanced again at Quality. "Do you not agree, Liebling?"
"Nietzsche had no respect for women," she replied.
His brow lifted. "You recognize my quote from Nietzsche?
Why do you condemn him?"
"I don't condemn him. I just don't regard him as any authority
on women. He said that man thinks woman is profound, because
he can never fathom her depths, but that she is not even shallow.
If he had ever come to know a woman who wasn't syphilitic, he
would have had a better opinion."
Ernst turned his face away, perhaps horrified by her impertinence
to his superior, but Quality had already realized that Heydrich
respected mind more than subservience. If he had come to take
her back to an awful camp, at least he would know she had a mind.
Heydrich smiled. "Now I see why Ernst selected you. And
what do you think of Wagner?"
"The composer? I love his work, but I have not heard a
lot of it."
"You must listen to more. The Führer approves."
His eyes flicked around the room again. Then he switched back
to his staccato German, addressing Ernst, who answered reluctantly.
Their dialogue continued.
Quality, evidently dismissed, retreated to a corner and sat,
waiting for the conclusion. What was Heydrich's purpose here?
Was he going to take her away, or was she incidental? She had
the unmistakable impression that his interest in her was not casual.
That chilled her, but she knew she was helpless.
Then, abruptly, Heydrich was departing. "We shall meet
again, Liebling, when we have more time for Nietzsche."
He was gone.
Quality felt the tension draining from her. "What does
he want?" she demanded.
"He wants the truth about Admiral Canaris," he said
heavily. "And I have given it to him."
"But I thought thee worked for Canaris."
"I do. But my real job is with Heydrich. I fear I have
gotten Canaris in trouble."
"Trouble? How?"
"I have learned that Canaris is employing a full Jewish
agent in Tangier."
"Heydrich hates Jews?"
"No, he helped a Jewish fencing instructor to emigrate to
America. He was proficient in fencing, so has respect for it.
He simply regards Jews as faceless objects that must be removed
from Germany, as Hitler wills. But the fact that Canaris is using
Jews in his operation means that Canaris is suspect. I believe
he is loyal, but this counts against him."
"Thee is a spy for Heydrich, against Canaris?"
"Yes. I wish I were not."
"So Heydrich is not going to take me away?"
"Oh, no, Quality! He doesn't care about you."
"Yes he does. But I don't know how."
"I fear I do know. I hope I am wrong."
"Then what is it, Ernst? Can I avoid it?"
"It is his way to blackmail his most important subordinates.
He believes he can not trust any man completely unless he knows
something about that man that must not be revealed. Now he has
that hold on me. Perhaps I should feel privileged, that I am
important enough to him to rate this treatment." He smiled
without pleasure.
"What hold?" she asked, perplexed.
"I prefer not to say." He was obviously distressed.
"Thee must tell me, Ernst, if it concerns me."
He closed his eyes in pain. "It is my love for you. I
must obey him absolutely, because if I do not, he will destroy
you, and therefore me."
"Oh, my," she said, horrified.
"I think he knew all along. He was the one who sent me
to Barcelona to investigate the Quaker relief effort there. He
knew of you from my personnel record. He has an uncanny memory
for key details. He must have known I would try to protect you,
once I knew you were in Spain. I invoked his name when I took
you from Gurs. I thought they did not check, but now I suspect
they did, and he gave you clearance to go with me. It is the
way he works."
"But he could not know we would fall in love!" she
protested.
"It is exactly the kind of thing he does know. He
is a genius in the manipulation of people and power. He wanted
this hold on me, and now he has it."
"Oh, Ernst!" she cried, chagrined. "What have
I done to thee!"
"No, my love, no, I would not have it otherwise! I wish
only that he had not known."
"There must be truth," she said, pained. "If
it is to thy commander I owe my rescue from Gurs, and my stay
with thee, and the love we share, then I must thank him, though
his motive be unkind. I owe him my life and love."
"Can good come of an ill motive?" Ernst inquired bleakly.
"It can, and ill can come of a good motive. We do not comprehend
the ways of God."
"Certainly I do not!"
She smiled, cheering him, understanding his confusion. He had
never professed the kind of faith she had, yet he was as good
a man as any who had faith.
Still she was sorry that her presence placed him in this peril.
She knew that there was intrigue among German officers, with
each striving to get ahead at the expense of others, and she was
chagrined to be the mechanism by which Ernst had become vulnerable.
A few days later there was a peremptory knock on the door. It
was during the day, while Ernst was at work. She did not answer,
as was her policy; Ernst had stressed that no one who lacked a
key should be admitted during his absence.
"Liebling! It is Reinhard."
Quality suffered a siege of panic. That was Heydrich, Ernst's
terrible superior! What could have brought him here?
"Do not fear," Heydrich called. "I have brought
you something. Open the door."
She could not deny this man, for his anger could cost Ernst terribly.
With dread, she unlocked the door.
The Nazi officer stood there holding a box. He was in civilian
clothing, as he had been before, which meant he was not advertising
his presence here. He stepped into the room. He carried the
box to the table and set it down. "Lock the door again,
Liebling," he said without looking at her.
Quality's hands were shaking as she did so. It was obvious that
the man had timed his appearance for Ernst's absence. What dreadful
thing did he have in mind? She knew she was helpless to prevent
it, because he could readily arrange to have her killed.
Heydrich brought out a knife as he turned to face her. Quality
felt a thrill of horror. He was going to kill her right here,
if she even screamed!
"Fräulein, what do you expect of me?" Heydrich
asked, looking surprised.
Pleading would be useless; this was a completely cynical man.
She could save only her dignity, for what little it was worth.
So she gave him a direct answer. "I expect you to rape
me, and to kill me if I protest."
He laughed. "You misjudge me, Liebling. I am merely opening
the box." He proceeded to use the knife to cut the string
and cardboard. "While it is true that I like women, I do
not impose on those committed to other men, and I am distressed
that you suppose I would deplore your being hit by Ernst while
intending violence on you myself. I assure you that this is not
my way. Certainly not when a lovely woman is protected by her
swastika."
She was not completely reassured. "Then what is your intent?"
"Only to charm you." He had the box open, and put
away the knife.
"I am not to be charmed into what I do not wish to do."
He glanced at her again, smiling. "Then you have nothing
to fear from me."
"But Ernst has!" she said boldly.
"Ah, he has told you of my way."
"It's a terrible way!"
"It is a practical way. It obviates deceit. In my profession
this is necessary. Now I can truly trust Ernst, and so there
will never be any problem. As Nietzsche says, what is good is
all that heightens the feeling of power."
"And what is bad is all the proceeds from weakness,"
she agreed. "Therefore I am bad."
He laughed again. "I am not so sure of that, Liebling.
You have the power of your faith. It shines through you, making
you the envy of all women. I am a connoisseur in such matters.
Now take away the box as I lift it out."
Hesitantly she took hold of the box, and pulled it free of what
he held. She set it down, then looked at the thing on the table.
"A Victrola!" she exclaimed, surprised.
"And a record," he agreed. "Wagner. Power is
good, and music is power, and Richard Wagner is the true prince
of music. You appreciate Wagner, therefore you are also good."
"This is for me?" she asked, stunned.
"And for Ernst, while the two of you are here. Have no
fear: Adolf Hitler endorses Wagner. You may listen with impunity."
He brought out a record. "Only his shorter pieces are here,
I regret. The Ring is too much for a mere machine."
"But why?" Quality asked.
"I do not wish you to know me only by hearsay, which is
not kind. I prefer you to know me for what I am."
"But what do you care about my opinion? I am nothing."
"Ernst has good taste. He has given up a remarkably beautiful,
obliging, and well pedigreed woman, for you. I suspect you are
a woman among women, when you show your nature. I shall fathom
that nature."
She focused on one part of what he said. "He gave up Krista?"
Somehow she had not thought of this, of the insistent girlfriend
she had displaced.
"He is an honorable man. When he loved you, he broke with
her. She was most annoyed."
"He said nothing to me about this!" Yet of course
Ernst would have done it.
"And he said nothing to her about you. He merely told her
that he felt it was better that they no longer associate. She
remains suspicious of his motive."
"I never intended this!" Quality cried, though another
part of her recognized it as inevitable. How could she have married
Ernst, even symbolically, and expected him to continue dating
another woman? Such deceit might be required for appearances,
but not when that woman loved him.
Heydrich was watching her, as if he could read her thoughts in
the manner of ripples across her surface. "You love him,
of course."
"Yes. But--"
"As Nietzsche clarifies, love is a disguised desire for
possession. The will to power."
"But I would not think of--"
"And humility is protective coloration for the will to power."
"No! I do not want to harm anyone."
"The strong woman defines her own morality."
Everything he said was quoted from Nietzsche. She gave him a
direct stare. "Distrust all in whom the impulse to punish
is powerful," she said, quoting another maxim of Nietzsche.
He laughed. "Ah! She fights back at last! She is not
quite the pacifist she pretends!"
"There is no virtue in silence; all unuttered truths become
poisonous." That was more Nietzsche. "Punishment tames
man, but does not make him better." But Heydrich was right;
he had made her oppose him, to fight fire with fire. She was
indeed not truly pacifist, in words, and had never been so. She
realized that now.
"Now listen to your music. I will see you again, if you
are amenable." Heydrich walked to the door and waited until
she came to use her key to let him out. He departed without ceremony.
She locked the door behind him, feeling weak. She had never
anticipated such a visit! Yet the man seemed sincere. He did
have her in his power, and knew it, yet he had chosen to bring
her a gift instead of shame.
She told Ernst of the visit, when he came back. "He is
an educated and sensitive man," he said. "But also
a will like steel. He is letting us know how completely we are
in his power."
"But the music is nice," she said. There were several
records, and the pieces were indeed pretty, with the power to
move the heart and spirit.
In February came disaster for Ernst's nominal superior, Admiral
Canaris. Ernst tersely explained to her what had happened: Himmler
had received the word that Ernst had relayed to Heydrich about
the Jew Canaris employed in Tangier. Himmler had gone to Hitler
and accused Canaris of favoring Jews. Hitler, outraged, had summoned
Keitel, who was the Chief-of-Staff of the German armed Forces,
and ordered him to dismiss Canaris. Keitel had done so. Canaris
was replaced by a Vice-Admiral within Abwehr. Thus had Ernst
effectively served Heydrich, to the Admiral's cost. But he was
saddened and disgusted. "It is true, there is a Jew--but
he is an effective operative, working loyally for Germany. Canaris
is merely trying to do the best job he can, using the best people.
He is not disloyal or incompetent, and he does not deserve to
be so callously cast aside."
In the following days Canaris fought back. He went to Keitel,
who refused to intercede on his behalf. Finally he went directly
to Hitler, and in that interview was able to get himself reinstated.
But the experience nearly destroyed him.
"He is despondent and morose," Ernst reported as the
situation unfolded. "He no longer pays attention to detail.
He seeks solace in Roman Catholic mysticism. He visits Spanish
churches. He speaks of retiring and buying a coffee shop in some
little Spanish town."
"But that is a nice dream," Quality said. "Spain
is a nice country, when it isn't torn by war."
"Unfortunately a dream isn't enough, right now. Heydrich
is using the Admiral's weakness to coerce concessions from him.
If only I had not served Heydrich so well!"
Quality was silent, knowing that Ernst had no choice. She
was the price of his loyalty to Heydrich, whatever else he might
wish politically.
However, the other officers of Abwehr acted quickly to repair
the damage done to their power base. Ernst had no part in it,
to their frustration, but they drafted a counterproposal which
retracted nearly all of the Admiral's concessions.
Late in February Heydrich appeared once more at the room. Quality
let him in, concerned about what might be on his mind. "Have
no fear, Liebling," he said as he entered. "I admit
I am furious because of the Admiral's bad faith, and I refuse
to associate with him. But no fault attaches to Ernst, or to
you. Let us relax." He opened what Quality had taken to
be a small suitcase and brought out a violin. "I will play
Wagner's 'Ride of the Valkyries,' and we shall forget the sordid
things of this bleak world."
Amazed, Quality watched and listened as Heydrich did just that.
He played his violin with exquisite skill, producing the most
moving rendition of "Ride" Quality could remember hearing.
This despite having only his single instrument for a piece intended
for an orchestra. Quality saw with further surprise that his
eyes were closed, and that tears flowed from them. He was truly
feeling the music.
He finished the brief piece, and took down the violin. "Oh,
please play more!" Quality begged. "It is so lovely."
"How can I refuse?" he inquired, smiling sadly. "There
is such greatness in Wagner, it is an honor merely to echo it
in whatever way we can."
He played for an hour, and Quality was entranced. "You
said you would charm me," she said as he finally put away
the instrument. "You have succeeded."
He nodded, then departed, leaving her bemused. This savagely
practical man, who held her hostage against Ernst's possible independence,
who schemed to topple competing officers, yet had such a wonderful
side. How could she assimilate this?
Of course she told Ernst, later. "Heydrich is a remarkable
man," he agreed. "He was a champion athlete, and proficient
in fencing and horsemanship. But he is also a power-hungry cynic,
and I wish we were far from him."
Quality agreed, yet she could not forget the beauty of the man's
violin playing. Surely such a man could not be wholly evil.
In March Heydrich came again. "Come, Liebling, it is a
nice day out," he said. "Walk with me in the park.
In happier days I rode horseback there with Admiral Canaris."
"But I can't go outside!" she protested. "I have
no papers!" For Ernst had been unable to arrange this.
"I think you can, Liebling. Here is a pass for you."
He handed her a bit of paper.
Amazed, she accepted it. It was indeed an identification for
Frau Smith that would probably give her freedom of the streets.
"But why?" she asked.
"A bird is better free than in the cage. Ernst trusts you;
can I do less?"
So it was that she left the room and the hotel for the first
time in three months. They walked through the Tiergarten in the
brisk but pleasant air, and they discussed Nietzsche. She had
read and reread all the books Ernst had been able to bring her,
in the long hours of her confinement, and struggled with the concepts,
and her familiarity enabled her to hold her own in this dialogue.
"But do you not agree that mankind is led by the nose with
morality?" he asked. "That this is merely the arrogance
of the elect, posing as modesty? That Christianity is a fateful
kind of megalomania, laying claim to the concepts of God, Truth,
Light, Spirit, Love, Wisdom and Life itself?"
"I am a Christian, a Quaker Christian," she replied.
"I lay claim to no such things, only my wish to be guided
by my inner light. However imperfect I may be, the end is noble."
"You have read Nietzsche, yet you still believe in religion,
in God?"
"Reading Nietzsche is like walking barefoot through the
pitfalls of Hell," she confessed. "But with care and
humility they can be navigated. One must at least try."
"And what of the Übermensch, the Overman? Is he not
Godlike? Are we not right to cultivate him?"
"You interpret the Overman as a racially pure Nordic,"
she retorted. "That is not what Nietzsche said. It is hardness
of the will, not of the flesh, that distinguishes the ideal man.
By Nietzsche's definition, a strong-willed and consistent Jew
is as much an Overman as any Nazi."
"Ach, the Führer must not hear you!" But he did
not seem upset by the comparison. Rather, he was delighting in
the discussion.
Heydrich returned her safely to her room, and departed, once
more having been a perfect gentleman.
Ernst shook his head when she told him. "It seems that
he wants your respect, nothing else. But that pass--I don't know
how that was possible, but he has given you your freedom. If
there were a way to take you out of Germany--"
"I would not go without thee, Ernst."
***
In May Admiral Canaris joined Heydrich at his new base in Prague.
All of the intelligence operations were being gathered together
under that umbrella. Heydrich's power was still increasing.
Then early in June he was assassinated.
Quality received the news with shock. "But how could he
be dead? He was too clever for that!"
"He was a top target," Ernst said. "The allies
wanted very much to be rid of him."
"Perhaps he had his evil side, but I shall grieve for him,"
she said Indeed, she felt the tears. "He was always kind
to me."
"Yet his death has freed you as a hostage. No other man
has that hold on me. Indeed, now I can forget that aspect of
my career, and work truly for Admiral Canaris!"
"I am pleased for thee." Yet she knew that every time
she listened to a record on the Victrola she would think of Heydrich,
and whenever she went outside, protected by the papers he had
arranged. Whatever the man's motive, he had done her incalculable
good. Whatever his evil, he deserved that measure of her respect.
Indeed, it was a time of relief for them both. Ernst continued
with his work, which sometimes took him to Spain and elsewhere,
but the pass Heydrich had given Quality remained magical in its
authority, and she was now able to go out and shop on her own.
The hotel personnel knew her and accepted her. She was learning
German, and developing facility in conversing with others.
When Ernst was home, they made love often. They listened to
records on the Victrola; Ernst bought more when he found them,
including other pieces by Richard Wagner. There was an emotional
intensity to Wagner's music that made it an excellent background
for sexual expression.
When Ernst was away, for a day or for several days, Quality read.
She was no longer restricted to English or French books; a few
were in Spanish, and she was practicing on German ones too, with
the help of a dictionary. She was alone much of the time, but
she did not feel lonely; rather she felt that she was in a period
of learning, as she prepared to be a part of German society.
For she knew that her future lay with Ernst, and therefore Germany,
whatever the outcome of the war.
The war itself now seemed far away. They shut it out, not speaking
of it. Their world was the room, and the park, and the few stores
in range. They did not read the newspaper. In this they seemed
to be like other Berliners, who for their own reasons preferred
to ignore the world beyond Germany.
They celebrated the Christmas season together, quietly. Ernst
brought her a gift of a pretty wool sweater, the best he could
afford. They spoke of their dreams for "after": a nice
cottage in some mountain glade, with a forest nearby, where wild
animals could be seen. They drew outlines of floor plans for
such a structure, and looked at a map to find a suitable location.
Perhaps by a mountain lake, where they could watch the water
birds. It was idyllic. If it was unrealistic, they did not care;
it was their shared fantasy.
In January came the new year, 1943, and disaster. A man with
an ironically similar given name, Dr. Ernst Kaltenbrunner, replaced
Heydrich as head of the broad network of intelligence services
known as RHSA. Quality never met this man, but she felt his impact
immediately. Kaltenbrunner was heir to Heydrich's most private
information, including the fact that Ernst Best was an SS operative
who had infiltrated the Abwehr. He did not know about Quality,
so did not have that special hold on Ernst, but what he did know
was enough.
For Kaltenbrunner did not like Heydrich. In fact, he had nothing
but contempt and hatred for rear echelon intellectuals, and despised
anyone associated with them. He could not do anything to the
dead man, but he could still make the living ones suffer. Ernst
was one of these.
"He is transferring me to an assignment guaranteed to get
me dirty," Ernst said morosely. "He doesn't need any
more reports on the Admiral. I am to work with the Einsatzgruppen
--the SS forces charged with racial operations."
Quality felt a chill as of death. She had heard about that organization,
the worst of the SS. There was even a battalion composed entirely
of convicted criminals. "Oh, Ernst!"
"I am to leave the Abwehr tomorrow. They are not revealing
my true mission there, because they do not want to admit that
they have been spying on their own organizations. So there is
another pretext. Lieutenant Osterecht will disappear from those
records, and I will revert to my true identity. But I will not
be in Berlin."
"I will wait for thy return," she said, with grim humor.
She could do nothing else. "Perhaps I should give thee
back thy charmed swastika."
"No. You must be protected more than me."
She did not argue. She valued the swastika as the token of his
love, and it did indeed seem to be protecting her. Heydrich had
noticed it immediately, and thereafter treated her with courtesy
and kindness.
They made hasty arrangements. Ernst used the rest of his money
to pay for the room ahead and to provide her with enough for groceries.
"I will come back whenever I can," he promised.
"I know thee will." Neither spoke of the horror lurking
behind the assignment: he might be killed on that ugly front.
***
Quality pretended to herself that Ernst's absence was temporary,
and that in another day or two she would hear his familiar step
in the hall. She did not like deception, even of herself, but
it was necessary for her emotional survival.
Then there was an unfamiliar knock. Quality's presence here
was no longer secret; the hotel staff and the members of Abwehr
knew of her. But none of them had told the SS authorities, being
loyal to a friend though they had guessed the reason for his departure.
Who, then, could this be?
She opened the door. There stood a robustly attractive young
woman. "So it is true!" the woman exclaimed angrily
in German. "A kept woman!"
Was this a moralistic neighbor? "Who are you?" Quality
asked in German.
"I am Krista."
Astonished, Quality backed away, tacitly inviting her in. Krista
was the girlfriend Ernst had broken with a year ago. Actually,
it had been incomplete; he had tried to, but reported that Krista
had refused to disengage completely without better reason. So
they had maintained a "just friends" relationship, with
no promise of marriage, and Ernst had had meals with her every
month or so. Krista had seemed to accept this change, and she
was good company, he had said. He hoped she was in the process
of finding another boyfriend.
Now it was clear that Krista had by no means given up on Ernst.
She had merely bided her time, waiting for whatever problem he
had to pass. Now he was gone, and she was checking out his room--and
verifying her suspicion.
"I am sorry," Quality said carefully in German. "I
did not mean to hurt your life."
Krista studied her closely. Her eyes fixed on Quality's bosom.
"Ach, the game is lost," she murmured.
Quality glanced down. There lay Ernst's swastika. Krista evidently
understood its significance. "He gave it to me in lieu of
a ring," she explained.
Krista shook her head. "I came prepared to hate you. But
I see he loves you, and I cannot hate what he loves. How did
it come about?"
"We met in America. I was the fiancée of his friend
there. I went to work in Spain, but was--" Here she did
not know the German word, so had to say it in English. "Arrested."
"Verhaften," Krista said. Then, in English:
"I know some English, if you speak slow."
Quality elected to piece it out in German. "Arrested in
Vichy France. He tried to help me, for the sake of his friend,
but when America joined the war, he had to take me out of the
camp. We were together, here, and it happened."
"You must be a remarkable woman, to win his love. He has
such discipline he cannot be tempted unless he wills it."
"He slept embracing me naked, to keep me warm, and did not
touch me," Quality agreed.
"Ja, that is Ernst!" Krista shook her head. "I
will keep your secret. I would not hurt Ernst in any way, though
I have lost him." She turned to go.
"Krista--must we be enemies? I am without him too, now,
for I fear he will not--not return." She felt the sudden
tears in her eyes.
"How can we be otherwise?" Krista asked. She walked
to the door.
Quality followed her. "Please, I have injured you without
ever wanting to. If there is any possible way for me to make
amends--"
"Where is there another man like Ernst?" Krista asked
sharply. There were tears in her eyes too.
Quality was unable to answer. She watched Krista depart, then
locked the door after her. Then she went to the bed, flung herself
down on it, and wept.
***
But two days later Krista returned. Her eyes were somewhat swollen
despite a careful job of makeup. Quality knew her own were the
same. "I accept what must be," Krista said. "I
fear it was destined; your gray eyes match his. I am a practical
woman. But it is not easy to give up a dream."
Quality welcomed her. "I am not German," she said.
"I am a prisoner Ernst has been protecting. If anything
happens, I will be gone. Then--"
"I would not do that!"
"Of course not. I mean that there are many ways in which
my future is uncertain. Any member of the hotel staff could turn
me in. Then I will be out of the picture. So you have not necessarily
lost Ernst."
Krista shook her head. "I have lost him. If you were gone,
he would not return to me. He would morn you."
Quality could not argue the case. "Let me share some food
with you. I do not have much variety, but there is bread and
jam."
"It will do."
Quality fixed it, and they each had a slice.
"Now we have eaten together," Krista said. "We
can not be enemies."
"I never wished to be."
"Ernst was never truly mine. I threw myself at him, I tried
to seduce him, because I wanted a secure situation. It was not
love, it was opportunity. He understood that. He is more romantic.
He wanted love. This is what you gave him."
"Yes."
"I am as I am. There is a shadow on my ancestry. First
I must secure my position. Then love can come. I would have
loved him after we married. But I could not risk love before
it."
"But you said you tried to seduce him."
"Sex is not love. If there had been sex, he would have
married me, and then there could have been love. But with you,
the love came first."
"Yes. There just seemed to be something between us."
"It is goodness between you. I saw it in him, and I see
it in you. You are both beautiful inside as well as outside."
"I make no claim to that! My soul is sullied."
"Surely only because you were forced to choose between evils."
Krista shrugged. "But you loved another man before Ernst."
"Yes. Lane Dowling, an American. A fine man. I dread
our next meeting, if it occurs."
"You have had no contact with Herr Dowling, so he does not
know you have left him."
"He does not know," Quality agreed sadly. "I
have wronged him, too. Yet as with you and Ernst, I now see that
wer were not quite right for each other."
"You would not love an inferior man."
"I don't know how you mean that. I am not concerned with
pedigree or status, but with personality. Lane was special.
But Ernst--"
"Herr Dowling--what does he care about ancestry?"
"He doesn't care at all about ancestry! No more than I
do. In fact he seeks unusual people. That's why he befriended
Ernst, who was a foreigner in America. How I wish that friendship
had not led to--" Quality spread her hands. What an irony,
that Lane had introduced his friend to his fiancée, and
so had lost his fiancee.
"Ja. So Herr Dowling is a good man, and he will be disappointed
when he meets you again. At that point he will need another woman."
"I fear he will," Quality agreed.
"Would he consider a German?"
Quality stared at her. "You can't mean--?"
"I need security. I need a good man. One who does not
care about pedigree. Herr Dowling well need a good woman. I
can be a very good woman, for the right man." She inhaled.
Amazed, Quality assessed the prospect. "Lane does like--he
would be interested in a body like yours. I was surprised when
he became interested in me, because I am not--" She shrugged.
"Your body is slender. Your face is beautiful. You are
a lovely woman, overall. But perhaps it was something else he
saw in you."
"My religion," Quality agreed. "I am a practicing
Quaker. A pacifist. I--some of us use a variant of the language,
at times. He was intrigued."
"He is a pacifist?"
Quality laughed. "Not at all! That was part of--of what
was going wrong between us. He became a fighter pilot. He was
fighting in the Battle over France, shooting down German bombers,
when I last heard from him. Surely in the Battle over Britain,
too, later. But then I was arrested, and our correspondence was
lost."
"I am a Nazi. But I would change. However I needed to.
For a secure position. For a good man. The kind of man whom
you could once have loved, for I respect your judgment. Does
this disturb you?"
Quality shook her head. "I have learned to be practical,
in the past four years. Every person must do what she has to,
to accomplish what she has to."
"You would introduce me to Herr Dowling?"
"If I meet him again, and if you are there. Yes, that much
I would do. But Lane--he is not one to be reeled in like a fish,
any more than Ernst is. He would not reject you because of your
nationality, but he would not necessarily accept you. And for
all I know, he has already given up on me and found another woman.
He may believe I am dead. So this is purely speculative."
"A dream," Krista agreed. "But I need a dream,
now. I fear Germany is--the war is turning--the Russians are
fighting back--there will not be much security in Germany. So
if Herr Dowling comes, perhaps he is for me."
"Perhaps," Quality agreed, beginning to believe. "His
hair is the same color as Ernst's, and his blue eyes do match
yours."
"Ah! That is ideal! The hair, the eyes--perhaps it is
fated. If you will tell me about him, it will help."
"Gladly." Quality remained bemused by this development,
but she was wickedly tempted by the notion. If she could in effect
give Krista a man to replace Ernst, and give Lane a woman to replace
herself--what a precious solution! It was preposterous, yet a
worthy fantasy.
So she told Krista about Lane Dowling, practicing her German,
and Krista responded, practicing her English, and suddenly the
day was fading and Krista had to go.
But she came again when she had time, and they talked further.
Krista was insatiably interested in everything about Lane, and
Quality was glad to tell it, in this way expiating some of her
associated guilt.
The following month, Krista had another surprising proposal.
"It is hard living alone. The expense gets worse, and it
is lonely. You are also alone. I could share with you."
Quality had been refusing to think about what would happen when
her diminishing supply of Deutschmarks ran out, and the rent would
be due on the room. Ernst had been away a month now, and if he
did not return soon, her situation would become dire. Krista
had proved to be a pleasant companion during their dialogues.