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invigorating. He thought back on his decision to attend medical school in preparation for joining Albert Schweitzer’s team of missionary physicians in French Equatorial Africa , and for the life of him could not remember if it had been his idea or Louisa’s. Had he made such a peculiar, uncharacteristically selfless plan in order to impress Louisa, or had he been so inspired by the passion of his young friends, a passion for changing the world, that he had taken his own words seriously? He simply could not remember. It was as if the Gottfried von Weyrauch of 1932 was a different person from the Gottfried von Weyrauch of 1944. That earlier Weyrauch had voted for the small, democratically oriented Progressive Party; he had been a vocal, outspoken critic of the Nazis; he had preached resistance to evil, he had ridiculed the nonsensical diatribes leveled at the Jews, had been a pillar of strength and a defender of truth. Louisa had fallen madly in love with him, had married him, had cherished him, respected him, looked up to him, loved him.
    All of this was before Hitler came to power, before standing up to the Nazis ceased to be theoretical and became downright hazardous. All of this was before Weyrauch began seriously to consider what life would be like in tropical Africa , without such basic creature comforts as hot and cold running water and beer gardens and good food. There was a new man inhabiting the body of Gottfried von Weyrauch, one whom Louisa detested, one with whom she had not been physically intimate for over seven years, one whom she would have divorced had she not disapproved of divorce on religious grounds. This new Weyrauch was an exemplar of two very important truisms. The first was that when faced with the desire for ease and comfort, the ideal of self-sacrifice tends to wither away. The second was that in the absence of danger, courage is common; when danger is present, courage is rare.
    At least, these things were true for him.
    He arrived at the front door of the Neumann home and, after clearing his throat and straightening his clerical collar, he tapped the brass door knocker against it. He waited for a few moments and then knocked again. No one appeared to be home. Weyrauch reasoned that poor Frau Neumann, having found her pastor absent when she came by earlier that day, had gone to a friend’s house for some measure of support and condolence. Well , he thought, no matter. I’ll see her eventually and do whatever I can for her .
    He began to walk back toward his own house, feeling somehow relieved that he was not going to have to engage in the pastoral counseling which he knew the poor woman needed so badly at this tragic time. First her husband and now her only son , he thought, shaking his head. What a shame .
    There seemed to be a spring in his step as he strolled back along the medieval street, and he found his mood lifted by the cool morning air and the sounds of the birds singing in the trees that lined his way. As he drew close to his house he noticed that two soldiers of the S.S. were approaching from the other direction. His mind registered the fact that a black limousine was parked across the street from his door, but he did not connect the automobile with the soldiers. He was thinking to himself that his wife had misjudged him, that he was as brave as any man, that he would walk right by the two S.S. with his head held high and would give them a condescending and disapproving look as he passed them.
    Of course, all he did was crouch over very slightly, avert his eyes from them, and touch his fingers to his forehead in a tentative, pathetic salute. He opened his front door and walked into the parlor of the parsonage . Louisa was standing in the middle of the room, feather duster in hand, and he began to say something to her when he noticed that she was looking past him, her face reflecting a combination of fear and anger. He turned to find that the two S.S. soldiers had followed