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her.

Amadea turned twenty-three in April 1940. Her mother and sister came to visit her. Daphne was turning fifteen, which was hard for even Amadea to believe. She was truly beautiful, and looked almost exactly like photographs of their mother at the same age. But much to everyone's horror, eight days later the Nazis invaded Denmark and Norway. A month later, in May, they took Holland and the Lowlands, which no one had expected, and put Sister Teresa Benedicta at risk once again. Speaking of it in whispers over lunch, the sisters were panicked for her. It was impossible to know what was going to happen anymore. Hitler appeared to be taking over all of Europe. In June they took France. By then Amadea had renewed her temporary profession once again. She had three years left before taking her solemn vows, which would attach her permanently to the order. She felt solidly attached to it now. She could no longer remember or imagine any other life. She had already been there for five years.

The Nazis invaded Romania in October, shortly after Daphne went back to school. And in November the Cracow Ghetto was sealed off, containing seventy thousand Jews, and the Warsaw Ghetto, containing four hundred thousand. What was happening was unthinkable. But in spite of all that was occurring, and the relentless Nazi policies to eliminate Jews at every level of society, Beata insisted to Amadea when she saw her at Christmas that she had had no problems. No one had ever questioned her, or asked for documents that could expose her. It was as though they had forgotten she existed, or never knew. No one seemed to care. She was just a Catholic widow, living alone with a daughter, minding her own business. In essence, she had been overlooked. Amadea was always relieved to hear from them that all was well.

It was in the spring of 1941, just after Daphne's sixteenth birthday and Amadea's twenty-fourth, that Beata was at the bank and saw a woman who looked oddly familiar to her. She stared at her for a long time, while they both stood at separate windows, but no matter how often she glanced at her, she couldn't place the face. Beata was making a sizable withdrawal that day, which was something she rarely did, but it had occurred to her after a dream she'd had recently that it might be a good idea. She had spoken to Gérard Daubigny about it, and he was amenable. She wanted to leave some money with him, in case anything ever happened to her, so that he could hold it for the girls, in an emergency. He didn't see why she couldn't leave it all in the bank, but Beata had always seemed nervous to him since Antoine died, and if it made her feel better, he was willing to humor her and do it. He was happy to do what he could for the wife of his old friend. It had been obvious to him and Véronique for years that she had never recovered from his death. The years since had taken a heavy toll on her, and at forty-six, she looked ten years older than she was. She was planning to ride out to the Schloss that afternoon, to give him the money, in cash, that she wanted him to hold. It wasn't much, but it would tide the girls over if anything went wrong. She had even written to Amadea about it, and told her that Gérard Daubigny would be holding funds for them, in case anything happened to her. Amadea hated to hear her thinking that way, but she knew that her mother had worried for years about what would happen if she fell ill, or worse, particularly with Daphne still so young. Now, with such uncertainty around them everywhere, it was even easier to become anxious, and Amadea knew she was nervous about the Nazis and the steady progression of the war.

The woman Beata had been looking at in the bank finished her business at the same time, and the two women headed for the door almost side by side on the way out. Beata almost fainted when the woman called out, “Miss Wittgenstein!” Feeling her knees nearly buckle under her, she walked outside with a determined stride. All she wanted to do was get away from her as quickly as possible, and hail a cab. She showed no sign of recognition and raised her arm as a