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"Sacrebleu! Mon déjeuner!" he wailed. Hoisting
himself to his feet he ran a few pointless steps after
the thief.
Miriam and Hannah slipped around the opposite
corner and hurried down the narrow, twisting street.
At the first crossing Miriam turned right, then left
at the next. Hannah was gasping for breath so Miriam
slowed her pace. Already their obvious haste had
drawn a few curious glances. She was afraid, though,
that when the police failed to find her at the Prince de
Galles they would search the area.
Hannah recovered her breath as they walked on
between the overhanging timbered houses. "May God
not forsake them," she groaned. "They're good lads,
both of them. Where are we going, child? What shall
we do?"
Miriam forced herself to ignore the hollow feeling in
the pit of her stomach when she thought of Isaac and
Felix in police custody. At present she could do
nothing for them. She must concentrate on not joining
them.
"We have little choice, we shall go to the Ségals. At
worst, Monsieur Ségal will lend us money to escape; at
best he may be able to help the others. Do you
recognize this street?"
"No, Miss Miriam. It looks just like all the rest to
me."
"To me, too. We must be on the west side of the city,
I believe. The Ségals live to the north."
Though Miriam felt as if days had passed since she
woke that morning, it was still early. Looking up at the
strip of blue sky above, she saw that the sun shone on
the eaves of the houses on her left. Straight ahead was
north, then. Not that anything was straight ahead in
that labyrinth, but she feared they might be
conspicuous in the wide streets of the new section.
93
They kept on course by checking the sun's position
now and then, and in spite of being one of France's
larger towns, Bordeaux in no way compared with
London for size. A brisk fifteen-minute walk brought
them to streets they recognized. Soon they were gazing
across the Rue Médoc, straighter and wider than most,
at the Ségals' house. Composed of three of the small,
old town houses combined into one, it had an air of
prosperity without ostentation.
"The police cannot possibly know we are acquainted
with them," said Miriam firmly, and they crossed the
road.
As she raised her hand to knock on the door, she
noticed the carved wooden mezuzah case nailed to the
doorpost. Her own home in London had a mezuzah at
every entrance, but she had never enquired as to their
meaning. A sudden longing for Isaac swept through
her.
The smart maid who opened the door regarded them
with disfavour. "What do you want?" she asked
sharply.
Miriam was suddenly conscious of her shabby
appearance. Since Felix had ceased to judge her by
them, she had almost forgotten her worn,
unfashionable clothes. Still, she had been no more
modish last time she was in Bordeaux and the Ségals
had welcomed her nonetheless.
"I wish to see Madame Ségal," she told the maid.
"Please tell her that Miriam Jacobson is here."
"You are much too early to call on madame. She is
not yet come down."
"At least inform her that I am come. We shall wait if
need be."
Reluctantly the girl admitted them. She left them in
the small but elegant hall and went upstairs, only to
return moments later to sulkily invite them to go up.
Madame was in her dressing room, seated before a
dressing table laden with porcelain jars of cosmetics. A
small, fine-boned woman, her dark hair just touched
with grey, she wore a wrap of crimson silk
embroidered with vine leaves in gold thread.
"Que je suis ravie de te voir, chérie," she cried,
bouncing up and darting across the room to kiss
Miriam heartily on both cheeks. "What a delightful
surprise. Tell me, shall I dye my hair? This wretched
grey, it makes me look old, but even my Lucette
94
cannot find a dye that looks natural! You recall
Lucette, Miriam? I see Hannah is with you still. You
are pale as ever, chérie, but I suppose you will as
always refuse to try a spot of rouge. And how goes le
bon oncle?"
At last she paused for breath. In the course of her
chatter, she had returned to plucking her eyebrows,
Miriam had greeted Lucette, and Hannah had moved
to help the elderly abigail iron a morning gown of fawn
satin, liberally adorned with fine lace.
Seizing her chance, Miriam imparted the news of
Uncle Amos's death. Madame jumped up and
embraced her again.
"My poor Miriam, je suis désolée. Ezra will be greatly
afflicted. The doctor was a saint. So, you have not
found a husband to keep you on this side of the
Channel? Your standards are too high, ma chère. You
wish to return to England, without doubt?"
"Yes, but..."
"Ezra will arrange it. He went to the synagogue for
the morning prayer, but he will return for le petit
déjeuner before he goes to the bank. We shall speak to
him then. Have no fear, he will manage it without
difficulty. He knows everyone of importance in..."
"Suzanne! I am grateful for your offer, but I have a
much greater favour to ask. Indeed, it may prove
impossible, but I cannot run away and leave my
friends in prison without trying to save them."
"Prison!" Suzanne Ségal's attention was well and
truly caught. "Tell me all." She moved to a chaise
longue and patted the place beside her invitingly.
Miriam was too agitated to sit down. Pacing
restlessly, she delivered a much edited version,
omitting the destination of the gold, of the events of
the last few days. Was it only a few days since the
meeting in Jakob Rothschild's house in Paris? It
seemed a lifetime.
Characteristically, Suzanne went straight to what
she considered the heart of the matter. "You are in
love. This is obvious, but I cannot guess of which of
the two you are enamoured. Both sound charming."
"Both are charming. I am very fond of both, but I am
not in love with either. They are simply dear friends."
Suzanne gave her a knowing look. "As you will. You
have not told me all, I think, and perhaps it is for the
best. To rescue prisoners from the police is not so easy
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