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 taxi sped by. But the woman had caught up to her and was looking her right in the face with a broad smile. It was only then that memory stirred for Beata, and suddenly she knew who she was, despite the ravages of time. She had been a young Czech girl who worked as a maid for her parents nearly thirty years before. She had been there in fact when Beata left home. “I knew it was you!” she said victoriously. “I thought I was seeing a ghost. Your father told us you died in Switzerland.”

“I'm sorry…I have no idea…I…” As she looked at her, Beata tried to keep all sign of recognition from her face, pretending there was some mistake. But the woman clearly knew who Beata was and would not let it go. “I don't know who you mean,” Beata said coldly, shaking with terror over the possibility that someone might have heard the woman call her by her maiden name. It was not a name Beata could afford to acknowledge. To do so might put her life at stake.

“Don't you remember me? Mina…I worked for your parents.” In fact, Beata now remembered that she had married her father's driver, some thirty years before. It all came rushing back to her, on a wave of fear, knowing what this chance meeting could do to her.

“I'm sorry…” Beata smiled vaguely, trying to be polite and anxious to escape, as a cab slid mercifully to a stop beside her.

“I know who you are,” Mina said with a dogged look, as Beata slid into the cab and turned away. All she could hope now was that Mina would believe she had made a mistake. With luck, the unfortunate chance meeting would come to naught, and the woman would forget. She had no reason to pursue Beata. She was just trying to be friendly. She had been a sweet girl, and desperately in love with the chauffeur. They had gotten married not long before Beata left, and Mina was pregnant at the time. Beata knew Mina must have been surprised to see her, since her father had said he would tell the entire household she was dead. In fact, she was very much alive. Perhaps that was why Mina was so determined to acknowledge her. But in these frightening times, Beata could not afford to be identified as a Wittgenstein, even at the risk of being rude to their former maid.

Beata was surprised to find that she was shaking violently in the cab. It had been one of those unnerving chance encounters that meant nothing, but hearing her call Beata's maiden name across the bank was risky business. It was a name she could no longer afford to admit ever having had. Hopefully, Mina would simply let it go. There was nothing Beata could do about it. It had been a frightening moment, but it was over. And Beata had not admitted her identity to her. She had remained outwardly calm throughout, even if shaking inside. Hopefully it would be the last she'd see of her. On her way to Gérard and Véronique's Schloss, she put it out of her mind, determined not to let it panic her.

The Daubignys had been lucky to keep the property intact, despite the war. Fortunately, Gérard had had the foresight years before to take German citizenship, as had Véronique, although Beata knew from conversations with him that he deplored what Hitler was doing to the Jews. He said it made him sick. He didn't question her as to why she wanted to leave money with him. He thought it was more anxious eccentricity than due to anything else. She was an unhappy, lonely woman on her own with a child. It was understandable that she was nervous. With a war on, and all of Europe up in arms over the fate of the Jews, these were frightening times for everyone, and the entire world seemed unstable. He suspected that what she was worried about was that the banks would fail. It was the only explanation for the amount she gave him that afternoon. She had given him an envelope with the equivalent of twenty thousand dollars in it, which she said would tide the girls over for a while, if anything happened to her, until they could get the rest. He assured her he would take good care of it, and put it in the safe. He sat down and had tea with her then, since Véronique was out.

The stables were still beautiful, she saw when she went in, although he said he had far fewer horses than he had when Antoine was alive. He had never found anyone to compare to him, to run the horse farm for him. Antoine had been gone by then for fourteen years. They reminisced for a time, and after a while, he called a cab for her to take her back to the city.

Daphne was already at home when she got back, and she was excited about a new boy she'd met in school. His father was in the army in Austria, and she said he was very handsome, with a twinkle in her eye, which made her mother laugh. The two of them had a quiet dinner that night. Daphne said she wanted to visit Amadea soon. They hadn't seen her in months. She was going to be taking her temporary vows again for the fourth time. She accepted Amadea being a Carmelite now as a matter of course. It was harder for Beata, who still hoped that one day she would change her mind. She had two more years before she took her final vows. It was the spring of 1941.

It was the following week that Beata went to the bank to take some money out for minor purchases. She wanted to buy some fabric for a few summer dresses for Daphne, and it was easier doing business in cash than writing checks, although there were fewer places to buy fabrics these days. All the stores she had patronized previously for those purposes had been run by Jews and were long since closed. She was thinking about what she needed when the bank teller handed her back her check, instead of cash.

“I'm sorry, madame,” he said coldly, “this check cannot be cashed.” There was obviously some mistake.

“I beg your pardon? Of course it can. I have more than adequate funds in that account to cover the check.” She smiled at him, and asked him to look it up again.

He handed the check back to her without checking anything. He knew he had read the notation correctly the first time. There was no mistaking those. The manager had made the notation himself, and the teller had no intention of challenging it. “Your account has been closed.”

“That's ridiculous. Of course it hasn't.” She was annoyed by their mistake, and about to ask for the bank manager, when she saw something in the young man's eyes. “By whom?”

“The Third Reich,” he said briskly, as she stared at him, opened her mouth, and closed it again. She put the check back in her handbag and turned around and walked out as quickly as she could. She knew exactly what that meant. Someone had reported her. All she could think of was Mina, her parents' former maid. She was the only one who knew. Or perhaps they had heard her call out “Miss Wittgenstein” and checked it out. However it had happened, they had closed her account, undoubtedly because someone knew that she was Jewish, and had been born a Jew. There was no other reason to close her account. Only Mina knew, although Beata had admitted nothing to her.

Beata walked quickly away from the bank, hailed a taxi on the street, and five minutes later she was home. She had no idea what to do, if she should wait to see what happened, or if they should leave immediately. And if they did, where would they go? She thought of the Daubignys, but she didn't want to endanger them either, no matter how sympathetic he said he was to the Jews. It was one thing to feel sorry for them, and another matter entirely to hide them. But maybe they could stay there for one night and he could advise her what to do. She had no passport, and she knew that she and Daphne would never be able to cross the borders. Besides which, she now had no money, except for what she had left with him previously, which she didn't want to use. The girls might need it later. Beata tried to fight waves of panic, as she took out two suitcases and began packing. She put her jewelry and some clothes for herself into one of them. And then she went into Daphne's room, and was throwing things into the suitcase when Daphne came home from school. The moment she saw her mother's face, she knew that something terrible had happened.