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Cover Page Table of Contents Author's Preface Teaching Rationale EXCERPTS <  Escape, p. 6  In Hiding, p.105  > In Hiding, p.105 [. . .]       One of the men pushes Madame Sachs aside. They know right away that she is not my mother. While the tall man comes towards me, the other one searches the room, peering into the small closet which doubles as our kitchen area.       “What do you want with her?” Madame Sachs demands.       “We want to question her.”       “Can’t you see that she’s only a little girl? She doesn’t know anything.”       “Shut up!” says the short man. “We’re not here to talk to you. We want to talk to her.”       Both men grab me by the arms. I remain quite still, hardly raising my head.       “Little girl,” says the tall man,” where is your father?”       “I haven’t seen him in a thousand years,” I say.       My parents trained me long ago; I know never to disclose their whereabouts to anyone, least of all to someone in a uniform. I know how to lie in order to protect myself, so I exaggerate the lie, thinking that if I say “a thousand years,” they will certainly believe me. [. . .]       “You’re lying.” It is the short man, speaking in a cool, low tone. “Look, we know who you are. We know all about you, your name, your real name. You are Jewish, aren’t you? [. . .]       “Try to remember. In which direction did Papa go when he left the house this morning?” [. . .]       Finally, with two hands, I point in two opposite directions at once.       “Very clever, little girl. Tell us now, or we go and get your mother!”       Again, I point in the direction opposite the road that my father always takes to reach the factory at St. Juéry. [. . .]       “You’d better be telling the truth, little girl,” says the short man, “or we might come back for you.”

<  Escape, p. 6  In Hiding, p.105  >