Isolde entered the church and spoke to the old attendant by the door who seemed to act as a general guide for tourists. He was manning a small table that held holy jewelry and pamphlets. There was a large box on the table that was marked Prayer requests collected every hour. Isolde nodded to him and leaned on the table with both hands. Quietly, she inquired if he had knowledge of a woman who might come here, Yvonne Wojick, a Nazi officer.<br/><br/>He looked at her with rheumy eyes and thought for a moment before he shook his head no. With not a word, he tapped the box and cocked his head as if telling her he would pray about her finding the woman or perhaps telling her it would take a miracle to find what she was looking for. Isolde waved her hand at him and smiled vaguely. She would just take a look around for herself.<br/><br/>Inside the church the walls and ceiling were whitewashed, giving it the airiness of a summer day. The light refracted from the crystals on the chandeliers, dancing across the murals painted on the ceiling in an attempt to recreate the Sistine Chapel. Isolde walked around, looking up in awe at the simple grandeur, taken in by the hush of reverence, evidence of centuries of prayer that had filled these walls. She walked to a table filled with red votive cups, candles burning in about half of them. Focusing on the flames, she formulated a blessing and a prayer for those who were suffering in this holocaust. Tears stung her eyes and she jumped when she heard,<br/><br/>"Memselle Devereaux”<br/><br/>Isolde froze as the dulcet tone washed over her. Yvonne was here after all. The people here probably protected her. Taking a deep breath, Isolde turned to face her. She was struck by vivid memories that held this woman’s image.<br/><br/>Nazi officers. A man bleeding to death in her arms. The woman doing nothing to help. The interrogation. The torture. The torture. The torture.<br/><br/>Isolde’s breathing had quickened and she struggled to put that incident in its place. The woman had not hit her but she had not tried to stop the madness either. Isolde felt faint and caught her balance on the edge of the prayer table.<br/><br/>"I heard a shot fired, and though you do not trust me, I do not trust... that this is a safe place to talk. If I am right to assume this is your purpose, will you please allow me your faith to conduct you someplace that might be?"<br/><br/>Yvonne Wojick, who carried herself with innate dignity, like a child of the gods,  was speaking to her. Several things happened to Isolde at once. First she was struck by a different aura than usually surrounded the woman. There was nothing sharp and abrasive about her, as if something had polished her to a beautiful patina. She had the delicate strength of the Madonna that graced a nearby niche. A soft shimmering golden light surrounded her, beckoning Isolde to trust her. Something had changed Yvonne, she bloomed with  an emerging psychic and spiritual awareness as well as optimism and hopefulness. She radiated a  positive excitement about new ideas. Spiritual energy and a greater power had been activated and awakened. Isolde recognized her as a truly  inspired person.<br/><br/>Isolde smiled and relaxed. She held out her hand.<br/><br/>“I trust you and I agree. We need a more private place to speak. “<br/><br/>She followed Yvonne deeper into the church, to a small room that held a wooden crucifix and a statue of our Lady. On the far wall rows of violins hung in various stages of construction and repair. A long table in the middle was flanked by wooden benches. Isolde took the one where her back was toward the wall and she could see the door.<br/><br/>“I came looking for you,” Isolde said, spreading the note on the table. “Perhaps you have sent for me? Or not. It matters little. We have much to discuss.” She folded her hands on the table top and sat in silence for a while, contemplating the woman. Isolde still struggled with her hatred of all that was Nazi and Hamish’s admonition to keep her eyes on the bigger picture, the bigger threat than the Nazi party. With a nod, Isolde asked,<br/><br/>“Before I begin, and this is a long story, would you like to share anything with me?”