Assignment in Brittany Read Free Page B

relief. It hadn’t been so easy to avoid them at first. By the time he had reached the first cultivated patch of land, he was moving more confidently. His stiffness was forgotten, and his eyes had become accustomed to the shapes and shadows within the darkness.
    He passed a house, hidden unexpectedly behind some trees. A dog barked, and he saw a dull yellow light fill one of the windows as a lamp was lit. He felt an extraordinary compulsion to stay and watch. The glow from the small square window reached out into the coldness of the night and held him there, standing irresolute. Then the dog barked again, and the spell was broken. He moved swiftly away. Behind him the light still shone, but there was no sound of men’s voices or of following feet. Then other trees and a twist in the path blocked out the house, and he was alone in a field of straggling corn, hedged with gnarled fruit-trees.
    It was strange how you could be trapped by a moment like that, when your control over your movements was suspended, when nothing seemed to matter anyway. Strange, and dangerous. He couldn’t allow himself any off-guard moments, he reminded himself grimly. He thought again of that light. No footsteps, no men’s voices. When the dog had barked, the light had appeared so quickly, as if someone were lying awake, listening, waiting. A woman, perhaps, hoping against hope. This summer, there would be plenty of women, waitingand hoping. And he couldn’t allow himself any sentiment, either: that was another luxury he couldn’t afford this trip. He concentrated on the fields.
    The faintly luminous hands on Corlay’s watch told him it was fully an hour since he had stepped out of the woods. He was late. Either he had gone too carefully, or he had missed his direction. The discouraging idea that he had landed in another part of the Breton countryside, after all, began to take root. One minute he was calling himself a damned fool; and then the next, he was imagining what he’d use for transit if he found himself on the steep banks of the River Rance. It should be well behind him. If it weren’t, he’d have a nice cold swim ahead of him. He remembered Matthews’ old consolation; blessed is he who expects the worst, for he shall not be disappointed. He walked gloomily on. If he came to a village, he could scout out its name. Of course the villages hereabouts would all have gold-plated neon signs and—and at that moment, he almost tripped over the miniature railway-line. Not that it was noticeable, wandering so lightheartedly through the grass and flowers, along the hedgerows, and across the winding country roads without so much as a by-your-leave. He advanced cautiously along it, moving quietly through the shadows. The new moon was not yet born. Only the stars lighted the clear sky.
    He passed occasional farm-houses, darkened and asleep in the curves of their fields. Now and again there would be a village to avoid. Once he came to an unexpected road and a small wooden shed which was probably a station—nameless, in the best railway tradition. Twenty yards away was a hidden village, a dozen little stone houses round the inevitable church. German notices were posted here on the wall beside whichhe sheltered. But no one stirred. Reassured, he crossed the treacherous road, his eyes searching the sleeping village. “Café de France et de Chateaubriand,” he noted. That cheered him up, somehow, in spite of a large white proclamation with giant black letters shouting after him Bekanntmachung!
    He had reached the protection of some trees. And then a shadow moved—just there, about fifty yards ahead, in that unfortunate patch of open ground. He drew back against a tree. Another shadow moved, close behind the first one. His eyes followed their careful progress as his mind raced quickly from one plan to another. If he kept behind these two men, they would slow up his pace. He must circle to his left (for to the right lay the main roadway to the