I hope that I was able to give a decent overview of the circumstances that led to our flight from Paris last year. The journey to Leipzig was simple enough, and Evelyn and Monsieur Landowski have been as good as their word. The Prix pays for our tuition and accommodation, and provides an allowance for us to live whilst studying too. Sadly, I have had no direct contact with either of my friends since leaving Paris. However, on the night of my first solo performance at the Leipzig Conservatory, a large bunch of roses was sent anonymously to my dressing room, with a card reading Regards from Rome.

Our new life in Germany has proved to be a varied experience. Elle and I live in separate lodgings in Johannisgasse, with a coffee shop halfway between that has become a favourite haunt of ours over the past year. Unlike me, Elle has a roommate, which is standard practice for all the women here. Whether by chance, or by design, it is none other than Karine Rosenblum, and the pair have developed into the firmest of friends. Miss Rosenblum is the polar opposite to Elle in every conceivable way – so naturally they get along famously.

Karine is a true bohemian, opting to wear trousers and a French painter’s jacket most days, in total opposition to Elle’s conventional skirt, shirt and jumper. She has a mane of black, velvety hair that reminds me of a panther’s coat, and her glittering dark eyes are offset by the palest of skin. We have spent many evenings being entertained by tales of her parents – especially her mother, who is apparently a Russian opera singer! Speaking of families, I haven’t made mention of Monsieur Landowski, or anything else for that matter. It would only lead to questions I could not answer. I try to keep myself as quiet as I possibly can, and allow Elle to do the talking for both of us.

As far as Elle is concerned, there is little need to deviate from the truth. She has told Karine that she is an orphan, but had a music teacher in Paris who spotted her talent and put her forward for a scholarship. In terms of my own history, if anyone has asked, I simply say that I come from a small artistic family in Paris. I have found that generally suffices. Ironically, I have learnt with age that staying mute actually invites far more questions than talking does.

The tuition at the conservatory is outstanding. The sheer joy of dedicating full days to musical study, rather than my customary two afternoons per week, is unbounded. There was a swift decision made by the conservatory that I should focus only on the cello, for the staff feel that I am more gifted on the larger of my instruments. Nonetheless, I keep my violin safely stored under my bed, just as I did in Paris, and play it frequently to relax my mind. In truth, it has allowed me to rediscover my childlike joy for the instrument. As Elle says, I now have ‘one for business, and one for pleasure’.

Here in Leipzig, we are treated to the whole spectrum of conservatory life – playing in orchestras, giving concerts, writing compositions . . . I exist largely in a dreamlike state. This is essential, as the reality around us is far more frightening than I ever considered.

In March of 1933, Adolf Hitler’s Nazi Party gained power in Germany. To my shame, I knew little of the disgraceful ideologies of the man with the little moustache. Elle had naturally been paying closer attention to the growing movement, but only through articles in French newspapers, which were few and far between. It was Karine – herself Jewish – who informed us of the true political evil of Nazism. We were told that one of the first things Hitler had done in power was to pass a ruling that enabled the cabinet to enact laws without the consent of parliament. In effect, this gave Hitler dictatorial control of the nation, and totalitarianism had begun to take hold in Germany. The Nazis have dissolved all other political parties, abolished labour unions and are attempting to imprison anyone who opposes the regime. There are even dark rumours of camps where they place their enemies and subject them to torture beyond any capacity which could be defined as human.

Hitler has made no secret of his hatred for Elle’s people. Apparently, he blames them for Germany’s defeat during the Great War – a despicable sentiment which turns my stomach. As a result of one man’s bigoted insanity, anti-Semitism is now official government policy. It seems that the majority of the country are willing to accept it, believing that Hitler will restore Germany’s status as a global superpower.

As such, the conditions we live under here in Leipzig are tense, mainly due to the fact that the city’s mayor, Carl Friedrich Goerdeler, is a staunch opponent of Hitler’s ethos. None of us are quite sure how he is surviving at present – perhaps because his deputy, a diminutive little man called Haake, is an officious and obedient party member. As I write, Goerdeler is in Munich, meeting with Hitler’s minions, where I do not doubt that he is being pressured to employ their anti-Semitic rhetoric here in Leipzig. Whilst Goerdeler is in power to protect us, the citizens of Leipzig feel relatively safe. But in truth, I do not know how long it can last.

My heart breaks each day to see the worry that is etched on Elle’s face. It is not unusual to see SS officers roaming the streets here, and the Hitler Youth – the Nazi party’s way of shoring up its future via indoctrination – are frequently paraded through the streets. Soon we will have a generation of citizens who accept racial hatred as normal.

It is growing increasingly likely that Elle and I will not be able to see out our undergraduate years at the Leipzig Conservatory. We have discussed returning to Paris – or perhaps somewhere else in France – but I worry that if Germany wishes to make war, it will reach Elle’s home country too.

This evening, Elle and I are due to meet Karine for coffee to discuss the situation, alongside her boyfriend – a Norwegian called Jens Halvorsen (although he is known as ‘Pip’ to his friends). As far as I am concerned, he is far too relaxed about the situation in this city. He has a belief that the Nazis won’t touch students at the conservatory, claiming that, despite everything, Hitler is a supporter of music and culture. Karine is growing increasingly frustrated with his calls for calm.