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didn’t want you to live there. Down here there are no barracks and no factories. D’you understand for once?”
    “No.”
    Neubauer stared at his wife. Selma had never been like this before. He didn’t know what had gotten into her. That bit of fear alone couldn’t be it. He felt suddenly deserted by his family; just when they should be standing together. Annoyed, he glanced again at his daughter. “And you,” he said, “what do you think of it? Why don’t you open your mouth?”
    Freya Neubauer got up. She was twenty years old, thin, had a yellowish face, a jutting forehead, and resembled neither Selma nor her father. “I think Mother’s calming down now,” she said.
    “What? Why?”
    “I think she has calmed down.”
    Neubauer was silent for a while. He waited for his wife to say something. “All right, then,” he finally declared.
    “Can we go upstairs?” asked Freya.
    Neubauer cast a suspicious glance at Selma. He didn’t trust her yet. He had to make it clear that under no conditions should she talk to anyone. Not with the servant girl, either. Least of all with the girl. His daughter forestalled him. “Upstairs it’ll be better, Father. More air.”
    He stood undecided. There she lies like a sack of flour, he thought. Why can’t she say something sensible for once? “I’ve gotto go over to the Town Hall. At six. Dietz phoned, the situation has to be discussed.”
    “Nothing will happen, Father. Everything’s all right. We’ve also got to get dinner ready.”
    “All right, then.” Neubauer had made up his mind. At least his daughter seemed to have kept her head. He could rely on her. His flesh and blood. He walked over to his wife. “All right, then. Let’s forget all this now, Selma, eh? These things can happen. It’s not really so important.” He looked down at her, smiling, with cold eyes. “Eh?” he repeated.
    She didn’t answer.
    He put his arms round her fat shoulders and fondled them. “Run along then and prepare dinner. And cook something good now that the shock is over, eh?”
    She nodded listlessly.
    “That’s fine.” Neubauer saw that it really was all over. His daughter had been right. Selma wouldn’t talk any more nonsense. “Cook something specially good, children. After all, Selmachen, I’m doing it for you so you can have this beautiful house here with the safe cellar, instead of living up there near that dirty gang of thugs. And don’t forget I always spend a few nights a week down here. We’re all in the same boat. We must hold together. Now then, cook something tasty for supper. I trust you there. And what about bringing up a bottle of the French champagne? We still have enough of it, eh?”
    “Yes,” answered his wife. “Of that we still have enough.”
    “Just one more thing,” explained Group Leader Dietz snappily. “It has come to my ears that several gentlemen have voiced the intention of sending their families to the country. Is there something in it?”
    No one answered.
    “I cannot permit that. We officers of the SS must set an example. If we send our families out of town before a general order to evacuate has been given, it could be wrongly interpreted. Grumblers and alarmists would immediately jump on it. So I expect nothing of the kind to take place without my knowledge.”
    He stood slender and tall in his elegantly cut uniform in front of the group and gazed at them. Each man in the group looked determined and innocent. Almost all of them had considered sending their families away; but none of them betrayed it with so much as a glance. Each one thought the same: it’s easy for Dietz to talk. He had no family in the town. He came from Saxony and his only ambition was to look like a Prussian officer in the Guards. That was simple. What didn’t personally affect one could always be carried out with great courage.
    “That is all, gentlemen,” said Dietz. “Remember once more: our newest secret weapons are already in mass production. The