We met Elsa at the Gare de l'Est in Paris the evening after our arrival. Brand's nervous anxiety had increased as the hour drew near, and he smoked cigarette after cigarette, while he paced up and down the salle d'attente as far as he could for the crowds which surged there.
Once he spoke to me about his apprehensions.
"I hope to God this will work out all right. . . . I'm only thinking of her happiness."
Another time he said:
"This French crowd would tear her to pieces if they knew she was German."
While we were waiting we met a friend of old times. I was first to recognise Pierre Nesle, who had been attached to us as interpreter and liaison officer. He was in civil clothes and was wearing a bowler hat and a light overcoat, so that his transformation was astonishing. I touched him on the arm as he made his way quickly through the crowd, and he turned sharply and stared at me as though he could not place me at all. Then a look of recognition leapt into his eyes and he grasped both my hands, delightedly. He was still thin and pale, but some of his old melancholy had gone out of his eyes and in its place there was an eager, purposeful look.
"Here's Brand," I said. "He'll be glad to see you again."
"Quelle chance!" exclaimed Pierre, and he made a dash for his friend and before Brand could remonstrate kissed him on both cheeks. They had been good com-
