Free Julius by Daphne du Maurier

tightly he could scarcely breathe. He kissed him too, on his eyes and his mouth.
    ‘You are my own little thing, aren’t you?’ he said.
    ‘Yes,’ said Julius. He longed to tell Père about the Temple and the young Rabbin, but perhaps it was scarcely a good moment. He would wait.
    ‘It’s not very cheerful having Mère lie there in the middle of the room, is it?’ he said. ‘It’s going to be cold too, sleeping tonight without the blanket.’
    Père got up from his chair and began to button up his tunic.
    ‘We shan’t be staying to-night,’ he said, ‘we’re going from here at once. You had better put a warm scarf under your coat and make a bundle of your clothes.’
    ‘Where are we going, then?’
    ‘I don’t know - anywhere - it doesn’t matter. We can’t stay here.’
    ‘Could we go home to Puteaux?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Why not, Père? I’m not a coward. I’m not afraid of the Prussians if they are camping there. They don’t seem to fire any guns tonight. ’
    ‘There’s going to be an armistice.’
    ‘How do you know?’
    ‘There are notices on the walls. To-morrow it will be official. Paris has surrendered.’
    ‘Then the siege is over and the Prussians have won?’
    ‘Yes, little one.’
    ‘Why can’t we go home, then?’
    ‘Because Puteaux isn’t our home, it belonged to Grandpère and Mère. We have not got a home, you and I. Paris is not our city, France is not our country. We are Lévys, we are Jews.’
    Julius was silent. There was no argument to this. He did as Père had told him and began to pack his clothes into a bundle. He was glad to leave the Rue des Petits Champs.
    ‘I suppose someone will bury Mère,’ he said. ‘Jacques Tripet is going to get a fright when he comes in, anyway. I shouldn’t care to be him, would you?’
    Père did not answer. He was changing from his uniform of the Garde Nationale into his old suit. It was odd to see him dressed like that again.
    ‘Nobody would recognise you,’ laughed Julius; ‘look how thin you’ve got since the siege. Your clothes scarcely fit you at all.’
    Père opened the window and looked out. Then he blew the candle.
    ‘All quiet,’ he said, ‘there is nobody about.’
    Père unlocked the door and listened. No sound came from the passage.
    ‘Come on, are you ready?’ said Père. Julius wondered if he had any money in his pockets.
    ‘Mère had a purse tied round her waist, shall we take it?’ he said.
    ‘No,’ answered Père, ‘don’t bother about that. I have money enough for the moment.’ He began to walk down the stairs, his boots creaking.
    Julius hesitated. It seemed a pity to think of the purse tied round Mère’s waist when she was not going to use it any more. He knelt down by her body and began to fumble under the blanket. Good - there was the purse. It seemed full too.The coins jingled nicely. Mère was warm to touch. He pulled aside her dress and kissed her breast. He had always loved the smell of her skin. The only way to prevent himself from crying was to think of her lying on the mattress with Jacques Tripet. He kissed her once again, and then pulled the blanket over her. He jingled the money next his ear.
    ‘After all,’ he thought, ‘there must be at least ten francs here, maybe more. In a way it’s something for nothing.’ He ran down the stairs after Père, his hand in one pocket clutching on to the purse.
     
    That night the Lévys slept in a side chapel of the church of Saint-Sulpice. Julius broke off the ends of altar candles and hid them in his pocket with the purse. One never knew. He rattled a box that was nailed to the wall, a box that was marked: ‘For the Poor,’ with a cross beneath it. But it was locked. He was not able to take the money. They had to leave early for fear some priest should come and ask them their business.
    Near a week ago Julius had pocketed three francs after selling pieces of shell as souvenirs of the siege here. ‘It’s a pity the Prussians are not firing