"They'll have to," Lili argued. "If they canceled the summer holidays of thousands of families, there really would be a revolution."

"Even if it turns out to be safe for others, it may be different for us."

"Why?"

"Because we're the Franck family," Werner said in a tone of exasperation. "Your mother was a Social Democrat city councilor, your sister humiliated Hans Hoffmann, Walli killed a border guard, and you and Karolin sing protest songs. And our family business is in West Berlin, so they can't confiscate it. We've always been an irritant to the Communists. In consequence, unfortunately, we get special treatment."

Lili said: "So we have to take special precautions, that's all. Alice and Helmut will be extra cautious."

"I want to go, whatever the danger," Alice said emphatically. "I understand the risk, and I'm prepared to take it." She looked accusingly at her grandfather. "You've raised two generations under Communism. It's mean, it's brutal, it's stupid, and it's broke--yet it's still here. I want to live in the West. So does Helmut. We want our children to grow up in freedom and prosperity." She turned to her fiance. "Don't we?"

"Yes," he said, though Lili sensed he was more wary than Alice.

"It's mad," said Werner.

Carla spoke for the first time. "It's not mad, my darling," she said forcefully to Werner. "It's dangerous, yes. But remember the things we did, the risks we took for freedom."

"Some of our number died."

Carla would not let up. "But we thought it was worth the risk."

"There was a war on. We had to defeat the Nazis."

"This is Alice and Helmut's war--the Cold War."

Werner hesitated, then sighed. "Perhaps you're right," he said reluctantly.

"Okay," said Carla. "In that case, let's make a plan."

Lili looked at the TV again. In Hungary, they were still dismantling the fence.

*

On election day in Poland, Tanya went to church with Danuta, who was a candidate.

It was a sunny Sunday, June 4, with a few puffy clouds in a blue sky. Danuta dressed her two children in their best clothes and brushed their hair. Marek put on a tie in the red and white colors of Solidarity, which were also the colors of the Polish flag. Danuta wore a hat, a white straw bowler with a red feather.

Tanya was in an agony of doubt. Was all this really happening? An election, in Poland? The fence coming down in Hungary? Disarmament in Europe? Did Gorbachev really mean it about openness and restructuring?

Tanya dreamed of freedom with Vasili. The two of them would tour the world: Paris, New York, Rio de Janeiro, Delhi. Vasili would be interviewed on television and talk about his work and the long years of secrecy. Tanya would write travel articles, maybe a book of her own.

But when she woke up from her daydream she waited, hour by hour, for the bad news: the roadblocks, the tanks, the arrests, the curfew, and the bald men in bad suits coming on television to announce that they had foiled a counterrevolutionary plot financed by the capitalist-imperialists.

The priest told his congregation to vote for the most godly candidates. As all Communists were in principle atheists, that was a clear steer. The authoritarian Polish clergy did not much like the liberal Solidarity movement, but they knew who their real enemies were.

The election had come sooner than Solidarity expected. The union had rushed to raise money, rent offices, hire staff, and mount a national election campaign, all in a few weeks. Jaruzelski had done this deliberately, to wrong-foot Solidarity, knowing that the government had an organization firmly in place and ready to go.

However, that was the last smart thing Jaruzelski had done. Since then the Communists had been lethargic, as if they were so sure of winning that they could hardly be bothered to campaign. Their slogan was "With us it's safer," which sounded like a condom ad. Tanya had put that joke in her report for TASS, and to her surprise the editors had not taken it out.

In the people's minds this was a contest between General Jaruzelski, the country's brutal leader for almost a decade, and the troublemaking electrician Lech Walesa. Danuta had her photograph taken with Walesa, as did every other Solidarity candidate, and the photographs had been put up everywhere. Throughout the campaign the union published a daily newspaper, written mostly by Danuta and her women friends. Solidarity's most popular poster showed Gary Cooper as Marshal Will Kane, holding a ballot paper instead of a gun, with the slogan HIGH NOON, 4 JUNE 1989.

Perhaps the incompetence of the Communist campaign was to be expected, Tanya thought. After all, the idea of going cap in hand to the people and saying "Please vote for me" was totally alien to the Polish ruling elite.

The new upper chamber, called the senate, had one hundred seats, and the Communists expected to win most of those. The Polish people had their backs to the wall, economically, and they would probably vote for the familiar Jaruzelski rather than the maverick Walesa, Tanya expected. In the lower chamber, called the Sejm, the Communists could not lose, because 65 percent of the seats were reserved for them and their allies.

Solidarity's aspirations were modest. They figured that if they won a substantial minority of votes, the Communists would be forced to give them a voice in the government.

Tanya hoped they were right.