Chapter 4 – Revelation

"Tempus Omnia Revelat" – Adagia, Erasmus

Louis jumped to his feet, delighted to be suddenly issued an invitation to accompany this young woman as she walked back to the hotel.

"I would not mind at all! Merci!" He joined Danielle and they moved along in silence for a few moments. He then asked, "Can you tell me what it is you do at the Lutetia?"

"I am one of Madame Zlatin's assistants." She glanced over to see confusion on his face and elaborated, "She is head of the Accommodation Department. I am sure you will be able to meet her if you would like."

Louis, still unenlightened yet increasingly intrigued, nodded. "Yes, I would like that very much!" He couldn't begin to imagine what was going on at the Lutetia, other than perhaps the provision of housing for the seemingly unlimited numbers of Allied military personnel that had descended locust-like upon Paris. He wondered if they possibly needed any help in the kitchen. He started to ask about the availability of employment but thought better of it. As Danielle seemed to be determined to return as soon as possible, Louis simply concentrated on keeping up with her brisk pace.

As they approached the boulevard intersection, Louis became aware of a steadily increasing din, the unmistakable sound of a large crowd. Since his return, Louis had seen nothing but crowds thronging every inch of his beloved Paris. Soldiers, diplomats, businessmen, medical personnel, various refugees and repatriated prisoners of war like himself all filled the capital city as it began the long, difficult road to recovery. However, there was something strikingly different about this crowd. It sounded somehow different. As they crossed the street to the entrance of the hotel, he thought he heard faint strains of voices singing La Marseillaise. Louis halted in wonder at the spectacle meeting his eyes upon his arrival.

The main entrance to the hotel seethed and roiled with a confusing mass of humanity. The majority of the figures were clad in ragged striped clothing and appeared gaunt, pale and ill. All looked to be at the very least severely malnourished. Others, too weak to stand, were being carried in on stretchers. At the same time, other groups of individuals were making their way up the street whilst buses, lorries and ambulances transiting groups from the Gare L'est and the Gare d'Orsay jockeyed for space along the boulevard in front of the hotel, disgorging even more people into the mob crowded in front of the large doors. There were still others who appeared to be lined up in anticipation, awaiting each new group as they approached the entrance. They ran up to each new arrival, hands clenching bits of paper and pictures of their missing loved ones as they frantically asked if they knew them or knew of their whereabouts. All were in tears.

He turned to ask Danielle what this chaos meant and immediately froze at the anguish in her eyes. She shook her head slightly and then gestured in Louis' direction.

"Come," she sighed. "We enter through the rear doors. As you can see it is much too crowded in front."

As they carefully made their way through the crowd filling the pavement, Louis tried to observe as much as he could. He and Danielle finally made their way inside to find that the chaotic conditions outside spilled over into the interior of the hotel as well. Danielle leaned in close and still had to nearly shout into Louis' ear so as to be heard over the loud hum of the crowd.

"Our offices are on the floor above the main floor."

Louis nodded and followed her closely as she picked a path through the crowded lobby on her way to the rear doorway leading to the stairway. When they finally reached the thankfully secluded, empty area he sighed with genuine relief and stopped to wipe the perspiration from his forehead. Danielle turned back to him in concern. "Are you all right? Are you ill?"

"I will be fine in a minute or two," he replied embarrassedly. "I must apologize, I do not do well in cramped or crowded places."

Danielle smiled shyly at him as she said, "Please do not apologize. You cannot help it." She paused a moment and then asked, "Are you feeling better?"

Louis took a deep breath and nodded. "Oui, merci."

Danielle reached to take his arm and guided him up the stairway. When they reached the landing, she paused to search for her keys; Louis took the opportunity to peer over the decorative wrought iron balustrade at the chaotic masses milling about within the main lobby. It reminded him of the time he observed a net full of wriggling, twisting fish as they were drawn out of the Seine. The bulk of the crowd seemed to be mobbed on the far side of the lobby. Louis strained to see what was going on; they appeared to be jostling for position before the wall at that end of the large room. He could barely make it out but it looked like there were innumerable pieces of paper posted on it.

He tried to carefully listen, seeking to decipher what was going on at the far wall but the cacophonous tide of hundreds of voices echoed endlessly from one end of the marble-lined lobby to the other, ruling out any possibility of making out what was going on. He shook his head and turned back towards Danielle, who gestured for him to follow her. As they walked along the balcony, Louis' curiosity got the best of him and he just had to ask Danielle about what he had seen.

"Mademoiselle, please? What is the meaning of the wall with the papers posted on it?"

Danielle stopped and turned to face him. "That is the Great Gallery. Everyone who is missing a loved one posts their notices there."

Louis could not help but notice the sadness return to her voice as she answered him so he quickly thanked her and tried to change the subject by commenting, "We must be close to your office, no?

Danielle nodded gratefully, "Oui, it is right here." She slipped the key into the lock and opened the door to reveal a chair-filled anteroom which in turn led into a standard sized office. This office, however, had five desks jammed inside a space obviously intended for perhaps two at most. Increasingly intrigued, Louis decided to keep silent and simply observe as much as he possibly could for now. He reasoned that he would find out soon enough what important work was being accomplished at the Lutetia.

Louis turned at a noise from the door leading to the anteroom. A middle-aged woman briskly approached, drew Danielle close and handed her a large binder. Louis closely studied the woman's manner and features as she and Danielle conversed in hushed tones; his first impression was that she was a decisive, no-nonsense type of person, yet at the same time, she seemed to have an approachable, pleasant air about her. He startled out of his woolgathering as he realized Danielle was calling his name.

"Louis? Louis?"

"Oui? Please forgive me."

The new arrival smiled as she extended her hand and introduced herself. "Monsieur? I am happy to meet a returned soldier of France. My name is Sabine Zlatin."

"Enchante Madame, I am Louis LeBeau." He reached to kiss Mme. Zlatin's hand. "Mademoiselle Rousseau has told me you are in charge here, is that true?"

Mme. Zlatin sighed and nodded, "Sometimes. Other times, not so much." She moved to prop herself up against the edge of the nearest desk and addressed Danielle, "The registration sessions resume in ten minutes."

"Oh, yes...," stuttered Danielle. She turned to speak to Louis. "I must apologize Louis. We must get back to work. May I show you around the hotel at another time convenient for you?"

Mme. Zlatin gazed thoughtfully at Louis, then at Danielle and then back to Louis. She stood up and took the binder from Danielle's hands. "I did not know you made an appointment to give Monsieur LeBeau a tour of our operation. Please Danielle, go ahead. I will supervise the interviews in your stead this afternoon."

"Oh Madame Zlatin! Are you sure?"

Mme. Zlatin nodded vigorously, took Danielle by the arm and guided her to Louis. "Go my dear. Show Monsieur LeBeau what we are seeking to accomplish here. He may find it very interesting."

To say the least! thought Louis. He took Mme. Zlatin's hand and bowed slightly. "Merci Madame. I hope to see you again."

"I have a feeling that you will Monsieur LeBeau." She gestured to them both. "Now off with you! Danielle, please leave the anteroom door open as you go out."

Danielle nodded and took Louis by the arm. She whispered to herself as she moved towards the door, "Oh Sabine, how I envy your calm spirit."

Louis did not catch what she said and asked, "I am sorry, were you speaking to me?"

"Oh forgive me Louis, I was just thinking of Madame Zlatin. It is amazing how she is able to carry on even as she awaits news of her husband, Miron."

"What happened to him?"

"He was taken by the Gestapo in April 1944."

Louis sighed as his personal experience with the Gestapo told him there was probably no chance that Mme. Zlatin's husband still lived. He didn't say anything to Danielle and said a silent prayer begging for a small miracle on Mme. Zlatin's behalf.

The hallway outside the office was quickly filling with people lining up to register so the two of them hurried to the back stairway. When they reached the bottom floor the crowds hadn't abated; if anything, it was even more chaotic. Danielle cupped her hands so Louis could hear her speak. "Let us begin in the dining room, it is less crowded there."

Louis nodded nervously. Even though he was dying to know what was going on here, he was greatly relieved not to have to wade into the crowd to find out. He followed Danielle as she led him through the labyrinth of private hallways leading to the Lutetia's main dining room.

The dining room was virtually empty when they arrived, save for several workers cleaning up from the lunchtime service. Danielle led Louis to an isolated corner table where they both sat down. She looked Louis in the eyes as she said, "I am sure by now you are quite curious as to what we are doing here."

"Oui, I must admit it is quite puzzling Mademoiselle."

She reached over to place one hand gently atop Louis'. "Please, call me Danielle."

Louis nodded, pleased at her request. "Merci Danielle."

She smiled sadly as she sat back. "The Lutetia has become a temporary welcome and accommodation center for our repatriated deportés. Oh Louis, I do not know if I can even put into words what has been done to our countrymen...and women...and...and even children..." She took a moment to recover herself and continued, "The Boche took so many away; nearly all of the Jews, members of the Resistance, conscripts for forced labor, prisoners of war like yourself. Thankfully, many have returned, yet they have been horribly mistreated and they are ill. They are the fortunate ones; so many, many more will never return."

She was interrupted by the sound of a heated argument coming from the kitchen.

"I cannot help it! I cook what I am given! If they cannot tolerate it, it is not my fault!"

"I only ask for your help! They become violently ill! It is not a reflection upon your cooking. We need to make suitable changes to help them. How can we help them if they cannot eat?"

"I am a chef, not a physician!"

Louis listened intently as the two combatants finally gave up without reaching any agreement.

Danielle sighed. "I must report that conversation to Madame Zlatin. Food has become a real problem. Nothing is spared for our guests, they deserve the best after what they have been through. We have gone to great lengths to secure good food for them. Cheese, meat, even real coffee has been sourced for them, even if it means buying from the black market. Yet it is not helping them, it is making them even more ill."

As a former prisoner of war, Louis knew exactly what the problem was. He recalled the gaunt, skeletal frames of those he had seen in the street and lobby. "The food is too rich for their starved bodies. They have been abused; they are ill and need special diets."

"How do you know this Louis?"

"I saw similar things in the stalag. I have much experience in feeding sick and malnourished prisoners." An idea suddenly occurred to him. "Danielle, I am a chef by training. I apprenticed in my uncle's brasserie before the war and I cooked nearly every day for my friends in the stalag. Is there a place here for me to help? I feel I could be very useful here."

"Why would you want to do this Louis? You are a returned prisoner and have suffered much as well. Do you not need to take care of yourself?"

Finally comprehending the magnitude of what little he had seen and heard, Louis exclaimed, "These are our countrymen! They were stolen from us! They need our help!"

Danielle gazed at Louis for a long moment before she replied, "This work, it is not for everyone. I do not wish to discourage you Louis, no, for we need all the help we can get. I only ask that you please agree to let me take you through the hotel and show you what we are dealing with before you decide. You may wish to change your mind."

"Merci Danielle," Louis nodded his assent but he had already made up his mind to volunteer. He jumped at this chance to accomplish something worthwhile as he decided on his future course. He hated to admit it but since his liberation from Stalag 13 he greatly missed the sense of purpose and accomplishment he had had serving as one of Colonel Hogan's command crew.

Danielle gave him one last searching look before she shook her head and arose. Louis joined her and they left the dining room.

Author's Notes:

Sabine Zlatin (13 January 1907 – 21 September 1996) was a Polish-born Frenchwoman who hid Jewish children during World War II. After the Liberation of France, she was appointed head of the accommodation department at the Lutetia refugee centre, where she organized the return and reception of deported/displaced persons. As the preceding statements are a gross simplification of this woman's life and activities, I urge you to search the worldwide web for more information.

Also, as there does not seem to be any detailed information available on either the pre-war or wartime configuration/appearance of the Lutetia's interior (in English anyway), the descriptions herein are totally from my own imagination using the present interior layout as inspiration.

Finally, there seems to be an unwritten rule that any content involving the concentration/death camps must carry a disclaimer of some sort. From this point forward, please be aware that this story will include descriptions and/or allusions to the historic experience of those who were lost and those who survived. Rest assured that there will not be any disrespect or uncomfortably graphic details. As students of this time period, we all should be well aware of what transpired; therefore, I do not subscribe to the dictum that any mention of the camps automatically merits an "M" rating. I write in their honor as well as in their memory. That being said, in order to do this history the justice it deserves, an extensive amount of research must be done, hence the uncharacteristically slow posts.