In 1939-1945, Ophelia Mariè Baudelaire, a French ballerina studying at the Teatr Wielki, in Warsaw, is caught in the crossfire as the Nazis overrun Poland. Hoping to survive long enough for the nations to make amends, she aids away with the help of...
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Ophelia would think her time of equanimity would have endured longer; though it appeared that giants did not sleep, not even when there were no more men to eat. The sun had gone down before dinner like it has every evening, and Ophelia soon joined Savannah and Leonard at the table. After her phone call to Emmeline, Ophelia was left with the assumption that she'd have to stay in Marburg for a while longer. However, she knew the German heiress was not pleased to uncover that the German army had found its way to settle into the palace. Ophelia only disclosed to her so that Emmeline would be prepared to face them; but of course, the extent of what she told her was vague in comparison to what Ophelia truly knew. After careful thought, the French refugee ultimately decided not to tell her that a certain lieutenant was also residing on the hill. Cogent that it was to ensure that there would be no niggling; the last thing Ophelia wished to do is add additional strain to Emmeline, who seemed to only age with the affliction of stress. At last, it seems that with Von Wolff as the matter—difficulty was inevitable.
Eating in silence, Ophelia looked down at her silver spoon and sighed, birling the handle between her fingers. She doubted it was the taste of the porridge, as the taste of cinnamon and apples was tasty in its right. So, what was it that had her feeling so unsettled? Was it the leaking of the faucet that she could hear from the kitchen skin? Or the tree branches that tapped against the dining room window, in accordance with the wind? Either way, Ophelia could not shake the feeling that something was not right; it was too calm—too serene.
Call it a woman's intuition—or perhaps the aftermath of living through the scenario before, in Poland. Ophelia and the others were alarmed as the sound of a motor vehicle came close. The sound of a car door slamming had Leonard checking the sheltering drapes of the dining room window.
"Nazis, they're here," Leonard warned, pulling his face away from the window.
"Why are they here? Could it be that they know?" Savannah exclaimed in an apprehensive hush. There wasn't much time for questions to be explored as the sudden knocks against the wooden door caused everyone to tense up. Both girls stood up from the table and waited by the stairs as Leonard approached the door. The sound of heavy knocking followed once more, signifying that they were by the door. Leonard looked to the girls assuring them that everything would be ok, but Ophelia had a difficult time trusting that. She had lost count of the number of times she had received that look only to be greeted with loss and torment. If they did come for her, she would surrender herself willfully and would take all the blame. She didn't want anyone else dying for her; if the kill was all they came for then she would grant her death as pension. Leonard saw the desensitized gleam in Ophelia's eyes, whose expression was that of a girl determined not to hide. He knew by the way she stood in front of Savannah that she was no longer wearing that face of Katrina but Ophelia.
"Öffne die Tür," a firm German voice spoke up from behind the door, followed by another knock. Leonard nodded to the girls, asking them to prepare as he reached for the door and pulled. Not a second later, six German men broke free, filling the entryway of the home. Ophelia's eyes widened as they walked past them all and began searching the home. She was stunned, to say the least, having expected to be arrested at the door. The approach of another man had Ophelia look back to the front door. The badge 'Hauptmann Schnee' came to fruition as he spoke cordially to Leonard.
