<div align="center"><strong>The Seamstress Enters</strong></div><br/>Marie-Élise Lorraine’s heart raced as she approached the forbidding Fortress of Paris. She had been here before, thread in mouth, head bowed demurely, as she tucked and measured her country’s brutal conquerors for the exquisite suits her employer manufactured. He had been compared to Michelangelo with a needle, but his elderly legs could no longer endure trips out to his elite client list.<br/><br/>Thus, his trusted seamstress was charged with being his eyes and hands, measuring his clients and taking notes regarding their desires as to style and fabric, whether they dressed left or right, even how best to disguise a manly beer gut. But tonight was special and of immense importance. She had not this time been sent to measure a particular client.<br/><br/>Tonight, she used her signed and counter-signed papers, the fact that she was recognized as a person who entered this guarded, machine-gun manned monstrosity often on her master’s bidding—and more importantly at the direction of high level SS officers—to enter a party to which she had no legitimate reason for attending.<br/><br/>The fact that she looked nervous would not seem unusual as the guards let her in, the shy, slender seamstress always looked flustered and nervous. Her voice almost always came out as a tremulous whisper when she spoke to those in authority. So that tonight she was nervous for an actual reason meant nothing changed in her demeanor.<br/><br/>When accosted, she looked up and handed over her papers. “A wardrobe problem has occurred with a gentlemen on the second floor." She flushed pink. “Very embarrassing, Jean-Paul, my master is most distressed; the General was furious. I will remain after fixing the current problem in case more situations occur with anyone tonight.” Her wide blue eyes remained cast down at the ground while the guard examined her paperwork.<br/><br/>Even though he knew the mademoiselle and had taken papers from her time and time again, he still checked the signatures and dates. “Very well,” he said with a slight smile. “Pass.”<br/><br/>Marie-Élise desperately wanted to stop and cry at that point. This whole mission felt terrifyingly dangerous. But she had been told there was information of vital importance contained within these walls tonight. The risk was worth it. Her life was unimportant in the grand scheme. As scared as she was, she would do her duty. No patriot could do less.<br/>