“A violent man is roaming the old ghetto, looking for poor families, persuading them to send away their daughters. Does that not sound suspicious?”

"So, are you going to reveal your secret?”

Felix sighs. Papa is at a performance. Mama is in her bedroom, reading Tehillim, or her techinos. He thought he would have a glass of wine and some time alone to think over the events of the last few days. But Emmy follows him. And Emmy will not give in. She never has.

He shakes his head. No point in wasting the word no.

“Explain, please.”

“Nothing to explain.”

Emmy raises her eyebrows and pulls a face. “Oh, so nonchalant.”

Felix runs his finger across his cheek and then winces. “This you mean? Nothing really. Just—”

“What?”

He sips his wine. “Hans and Bertha.”

She laughs. “Why did I not think of that. Hans and Bertha. Of course. What else?”

“Why, did you think a gentleman like me would be involved in a street brawl?”

“Surely not. Hans and Bertha is the only explanation.”

“So what have they been up to now?”

“They were on their way to see the Orloj in the snow. Did you know we had snow here while you were away?”

Emmy nods.

“And they saw an old woman selling snowdrops.”

“Ah ha.”

“The old lady was blind and a young ruffian came over and grabbed a bunch of the flowers she was selling.”

“But not the money in the cup?”

“Not the money. The flowers.”

“Interesting.”

“Well, Hans and Bertha ran after him. Hans dashed in front, and Bertha pulled on his scarf and they had almost stopped him, but he was a bit too much for them.

“And of course, they’re just children, so I had to help out. It would not have been decent to leave them to tackle the ruffian alone.”

“Of course not.” She licks her lips. “So that’s how it happened?”

Felix opens his eyes wide and nods. “And I’m happy to report that the old lady received her snowdrops back. Some were a little crushed, it cannot be denied. But there were still buyers, for there’s nothing like a snowdrop on a winter’s day.”

Emmy nods slowly then picks herself up from the stool on which she had been perching and lays down in the middle of Felix’s bed.

Felix cock his head to one side. “Could I kindly request the Frauline move so that I may retire for the night?”

“No.”

He folds his arms. “Excuse me. Pray, do I deserve an explanation for this sudden residence on my place of retirement?”

“It is you who must give me an explanation.”

“Of what?”

“You know.”

His fingers creep to his cheek. She does not even know half of it. She does not know about the ache in his ribs or the slash in the flesh of his arm,