Chapter One
The Meeting
"Herr Hitler, a Fraulein French is here to see you."
"Danke, Hess. Show her in."
His secretary opened the door, letting in a young, rather attractive woman through to his cell. Chestnut hair, crystal eyes, and a gentle smile. She stood at the entrance, waiting. Adolf allowed himself a moment to take her in. He hoped that she was smarter than the impression of her age. Significantly younger than him, he doubted that she could keep up with his schedule, or, more importantly, his vision.
"You are B. French? A woman?"
"Oui, Herr Hitler. I mean, yes." She laughed. "Sorry for misleading you. Herr Hanfstaengl insisted. He thought you would hate the idea of… well, someone like me to look over your book. But I convinced him that my work will speak for itself. If you let me stay, I promise to also bring you to my side." She laughed again, the soft chime infectious. He almost had to stop a chuckle from escaping.
Adolf gestured for her to sit. A tea tray had been set, laid out for two. Helping herself to a cup, she poured the tea for him, and waited for him to speak with polite interest.
"You are, er… from France, Fraulein?"
"Oui, ha. The French French. Everyone at the office calls me Frenchie."
"Then, would you rather I called you Madame French?"
"Mademoiselle, Herr Hitler. Unmarried, but not quite a spinster."
Again she laughed. He found himself smiling now. Mlle French had a bright energy. Despite the amenities, he woke to a bleak cell every morning. The room brightened when she smiled, and his spirit lightened with her voice echoing through the room.
"Mlle French, would you like to take a look at my book?"
"But of course, Herr Hitler. It's why I'm here."
She produced a pencil from behind her ear and sucked the tip. Ignoring the sudden tightening in his stomach, he watched as she started marking his pages.
"Herr Hanfstaengl told me you were struggling for a title. I could help you there. Would you give me an idea of what this book is trying to say?"
"It is my memoirs. And my dream for a better Germany."
She shook her head, smiling. "No. This book must be more than that. No one ever feels compelled to tell their story unless they have something they need to tell the world. Now, regretfully, I have never heard your speeches." He gave a short nod, waving for her to continue. "But your reputation proceeds you. What would your supporters think if they knew you gave such a comment pouvez-vous dire… lackluster answer to my question?"
He stared, offering nothing. Feeling she had him, Belle went in for the kill.
"You want to fight against those you feel are oppressing you. As well as those whom have stood in your way in the past. You want everyone to know about your struggles, and to learn from them. And to incite their spirits to join your cause."
She crossed out his original title, and wrote a new one underneath, in small, looped script.
"Mein Kampf. Intriguing title, n'est-ce pas?"