Marie-Élise saw the overtly sexual woman cutting through the crowd like a shark through a school of fish. It was one of Eckart’s personal guards. The women, they were all women, frightened her. And she had always avoided them. Quietly, she moved to the side in an effort to not be knocked over when the heal-clicking bitch passed by her area. It was not to be. Even as the woman stopped in front of her, Marie-Élise found it inconceivable that she, a mere seamstress, might be the target of the focus of Eckhart’s minion. So it came as a complete shock when the taller woman clicked her heels and began to speak. The French woman's blue eyes were directly in line with the abundant bust of this Valkyrie. She could smell the woman's overpoweringly expensive perfume. By its scent, Marie-Élise knew it might only have come from the perfume factory in Deauville, France.<br/><br/>The smaller seamstress's stomach felt like a knife was twisting in its center. She wanted to vomit. But she collected herself and said, “I had another appointment,” in a broken stammer. She felt in her terror an immediate desire to confess everything this instant to this woman. Marie-Élise could almost hear the words streaming from her mouth. But some inner strength of character kept the girl frozen silent. She must not betray any secrets. Ironically, she would have done anything to avoid the presence of General Eckhart. Whereas, other braver agents would pay any price to gain access to the secrets held within the dark, black heart of Eckhart.<br/><br/>She would soon stand before the source of so much evil flowing from the occupation of France by Germany. But she would no doubt never provide any information she might learn due to this event for she would be dead. Eckhart must know that she was a spy. He sought to execute her personally by summoning her to his side. She would be an example to other spies.<br/><br/>Perspiration ran down her neck and careened into the valley between her breasts. Her undergarments felt soaked.  Suppressing her need to vomit from sheer, unadulterated terror, Marie-Élise nodded nervously. “Oui mademoiselle.” Her small black shoes well-made, but plain with their little half-inch heels dragged immeasurably slowly as she followed the guard.<br/><br/>“Faster,” the woman snapped out impatiently.<br/><br/><em>Sadist</em>, thought Marie-Élise.<em>She no doubt is eager to see me shot. Or will they hang me? Oh God I don’t want to be hung, but being shot might hurt</em>. These thoughts occupied her mind up until the very moment she stood before General Eckhart himself. She had no idea what he looked like, because she could not summon the nerve to raise her eyes to a level where he would be visible. Her one strong impression of the General was that his boots were extremely well-polished. When it sank in that he had a garment crisis for one of his men, the sheer relief left Marie-Élise feeling light headed. She managed not to faint. But it was touch and go as she stammered out her willingness to do anything the General might require. Her sheer terror might have raised suspicion. But Marie-Élise had a reputation for being extremely shy and inarticulate at the best of times.