Carousel
“Round the Étoile and the Arc de Triomphe the traffic had the sound of wet cornflakes in cream.
German direction signs were everywhere. Bicycles … there were so many of them. Vé1o-taxis pedalled by eager young girls or grim-faced men in their middle fifties and older. Now a Daimler edging through the cream, now an army truck coming abreast of a cornflake, a blonde in a red coat and matching beret pedalling like the damned. German officers laughing at her. German corporals looking on with lust or... disinterest, the whole mass swirling in the mist, undulating as it went round and round … The Benzedrine? asked St-Cyr. The panic? The carousel of what Paris had become? Ah Mon Dieu, this thing was fast becoming a nightmare!
He squished his toes together. Memories of the rue Bènard kept coming back. Memories, too, of that girl Marianne St-Jacques and her foolish, foolish bravery, and of thirty hostages. Thirty of them!
He’d been to headquarters in search of Hermann only to find closed doors.MoreLess
German direction signs were everywhere. Bicycles … there were so many of them. Vé1o-taxis pedalled by eager young girls or grim-faced men in their middle fifties and older. Now a Daimler edging through the cream, now an army truck coming abreast of a cornflake, a blonde in a red coat and matching beret pedalling like the damned. German officers laughing at her. German corporals looking on with lust or... disinterest, the whole mass swirling in the mist, undulating as it went round and round … The Benzedrine? asked St-Cyr. The panic? The carousel of what Paris had become? Ah Mon Dieu, this thing was fast becoming a nightmare!
He squished his toes together. Memories of the rue Bènard kept coming back. Memories, too, of that girl Marianne St-Jacques and her foolish, foolish bravery, and of thirty hostages. Thirty of them!
He’d been to headquarters in search of Hermann only to find closed doors.MoreLess
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