'Bless you,' smiled Gregory. 'It's great that you should have thought all this out already. Erika had a passport photograph taken yesterday, so all that remains is the question of money, You had most of mine off me in Kandalaksha and Erika hasn't got any, so by the time I've settled the bill here we shall be pretty well stony.'
Kuporovitch shrugged. 'I have plenty; all my savings in foreign currency that I brought out of Russia as well as the six thousand marks which I changed for you. I'll see to that side of it.'
'Thanks. Whatever you pay out on Erika's behalf I'll refund when you get to France. If they won't let me send cash from England, I've got quite enough pull to fix a trip to Paris and meet you with it there.'
Erika sighed. 'Oh, Stefan, how lucky you are. If only I could go to Paris, too. As it is, I suppose when you two meet I'll be on my way to America.'
Gregory looked across at her with sudden intentness. 'There's time to reconsider your decision yet, darling. Why the hell can't you be sensible and let me get you a permit to enter England as a refugee from Nazi persecution?'
She swallowed hard but shook her head. 'No, dearest, it's no good. Because my country has fallen into the hands of a set of unscrupulous blackguards that doesn't make me any the less a German. I can't accept the hospitality of England or France while your friends and mine are killing one another.'
For a long time they were silent. The fine wine remained almost untasted in the glasses and they ate perfunctorily, hardly noticing the rich dishes which were placed before them. Kuporovitch did his best, but after one or two false starts even the jovial Russian gave up any attempt to make it a jolly party.
Gregory could have coped with most situations but this was beyond him. He and Erika were perfectly free; nothing compelled her to remain in Norway or him to leave it; they could both change their minds at the last moment, but he felt certain now that she would not change hers and he knew quite well that he would not change his. The very fact that their coming separation was self-imposed seemed to make it ten times harder, but a force that was stronger than either of them had them firmly in its grip and was tearing them apart just as surely as diverging currents would carry two pieces of driftwood in different directions.
This was their last night together, perhaps for years, perhaps, in the uncertainties of war, for ever; yet instead of savouring every moment of it they were sitting there tongue-tied and speechless. He felt that he was letting Erika down appallingly badly—after all, it was always up to the man to make the running—yet for the life of him he could not bring himself to be even normally cheerful—let alone gay and entertaining.
Erika knew just what he was feeling and her heart went out to him. Like him, she would have done anything to be able to recall their mood of the night on which they had first abandoned themselves to their wild passion for each other; but she was wise enough to know why that was impossible. Then they had just been a very beautiful woman and a damnably attractive man, both of whom were highly experienced in the art of love; two born pagans, who openly boasted that they had always taken with greedy hands all the joys that the gods had given them; but they had hardly known each other. Two brief meetings, with an interval of a few weeks between, had lit the flame of desire in both of them; each knew that the other was courageous, unscrupulous and clever, but no more, and after that night, but for a far deeper attraction, their interest in each other might soon have exhausted itself. That had been passion; this was love. And where Passion is given to those whom the gods love as a glorious plaything, Love is a harsh taskmaster.
They could have parted after that night with no regrets and a lovely memory; they could only part now, after they had come to know each other so well, with an actual physical pain that seemed to grip them in the pit of the stomach and rend each separate heart-string. To have pretended anything else would only have been a hideous attempt at play-acting which Erika could not have borne. She was terribly glad that Gregory did not attempt it.
From a glance at the clock she saw that it was already half-past nine. In less than twelve hours Gregory would have left her. She was not greedy for the caresses he had lavished on her in the previous nights, because her passion was temporarily numbed by her acute despair, but she wanted desperately to lie in his arms while he comforted her, to cling close to him in every moment that was left to her and gather all the strength she could for their separation. So she thrust back her chair and said:
'You've got to make an early start tomorrow, darling. I'm sure Stefan will forgive us if we desert him.'
Kuporovitch smiled sympathetically. 'Please. I can take care of myself, and I'll settle the bill. I shall see you both in the morning.'
Gregory nodded his thanks and followed her out into the lounge. At one table a little group of people were sitting drinking coffee and liqueurs. There was a very handsome dark girl of about twenty-three among them. She had a well-modelled, full-lipped mouth, fine, regular features, a strong, determined chin and large, lustrous brown eyes. On seeing Erika her eyes widened and she stood up.
Erika smothered an exclamation of annoyance as the dark girl hurriedly left the table and came towards them. This was the last moment she would have chosen to exchange meaningless gossip with her best friend—let alone a woman who was only a casual acquaintance—but there was no escape. The girl seized both her hands impulsively and exclaimed:
'My dear! How absolutely marvellous to see you! I thought —I thought . . .' Her voice tailed off as she glanced uncertainly towards Gregory.
Erika introduced them, 'Oberst-Baron von Lutz—Fraulein Paula von Steinmetz,' and asked: 'What did you think Paula? You can speak quite freely in front of the Colonel-Baron.'
Paula extended her hand to Gregory with a gracious smile, upon which he clicked his heels, bowed from the waist and kissed it in the approved manner of the Prussian officer; then she turned back to Erika.
'I thought that after the Army revolt last November the Nazis had passed a sentence of execution on you.'
'They did,' smiled Erika; 'but, as you see, they haven't carried it out yet.'
'The swine gave me ten years because I hid my brother Oscar, the one who is a Captain of Uhlans; and they're holding him as a hostage for my good behaviour,' Paula said quickly. 'They've done the same sort of thing with any number of girls I know. There are at least forty of us here in Oslo; but as they passed the death penalty on you I was afraid that you had been pig-headed and refused to play.'