Volk by Piers Anthony Read Free Book Online Page A

continuity was important.
    But now he had no time for reflection. They were swept up in the rush of moving in. Several of the old servants remained, and all had to be individually greeted by each member of the returning family. Ernst more or less turned off his mind and engaged in the necessary ritual.
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    Ernst had hoped to renew his acquaintance with his friends, particularly his peers of the Hitler Youth, but he was disappointed. Most of them were gone. The fittest had joined the
Wehrmacht
, the army; others had gone into Party service. The rest had found employment in the booming economy. There was virtually no one to talk to. What a change two years had made!
    Then Krista showed up, as Uncle Karl had warned she would. Ernst did not at first recognize her. She had been gangling at fifteen; now she was voluptuous at seventeen, with hair that glistened like that of a harvest goddess, and startlingly blue eyes. Her freckles had abated, and her nose had assumed esthetic proportions, enhancing her facial features. In fact, she was little short of stunning.
    They sat in the receiving room, decorously, and talked, for Herr Best tolerated no impropriety between the sexes. In this he was in exact accord with the stricture of the Hitler Youth. Ernst, having seen the way it was in America, now found the German system constrictive. But in due course he would be on his own; then he would see. Here, he obeyed the rules of the house. He watched while the maid delivered innocuous refreshments and retreated.
    Ernst had expected conversation to be strained, for he had not really wanted to encounter the girl so soon. But Krista was charged with news and excitement, and she carried the dialogue forward at the pace of a bubbling brook.
    â€œOh, Ernst, you are as handsome as ever! How was it in America? Have you forgotten how to speak German? How do you like me now?” And she inhaled, turning her profile to advantage. How well she knew what she had become, a strikingly beautiful young woman. Ernst was reminded of Lane, again, who had by his own confession been a weakling in youth, but transformed into a very fine figure of a man. Krista had certainly transformed. Maybe there was more to positive living than Ernst had supposed; more likely Krista had been fated to blossom at this time regardless of her beliefs or actions.
    â€œI miss the Hitler Youth,” Ernst said, avoiding her challenge for a compliment. She had become a forward girl, and that was not ideal.
    â€œI’m in the BDM,” she said quickly. “I’m a group leader, same as you were. We may demonstrate in Nuremberg next month.”
    â€œThe Nuremberg rally,” he said, remembering. “How well I recall that!”
    â€œYes, you were there,” she agreed brightly. “Tell me how it was.”
    She was playing up to him deliberately, pretending a greater interest than she felt, in order to flatter him. Ernst was aware of this, and was accordingly flattered. His prior image of her was fading under the onslaught of present reality. She was one radiantly attractive girl, and the force of her prettiness was almost tangible. But he was wary of such attention. Why should this newly-bloomed creature be so fascinated with him, after two years separation? He preferred to ascertain her true motive before accepting her interest at face value. So he temporized. “How do you feel about the Youth? I mean, of course everyone attends until age eighteen, but do you really like it?”
    â€œOf course I like it!” she exclaimed defensively.
    What else would she say? To criticize the
Führer’s
youth program would be unpatriotic. Yet sometimes expressed patriotism could mask a fundamental dissatisfaction with the system. Ernst had always understood that; his father’s employment had made him canny about the ways of covert and overt belief. Part of the reason he had succeeded so well with his youth group was