It was raining. Since before Richelieu had finished his morning cafe noir, the rain had fallen on the town. In the distance he could see the troops moving in a line towards the waiting trucks. So much had changed in just a few short weeks since the invasion, and yet here he was walking the street with Marie. Maybe he would figure it all out, decide whether to leave with her or stay to fight in the Brigade.
—-from ‘Chevalier Richelieu’
