It took me a very long time to decide whether to accept an invitation to the conference of The Hidden Child Foundation in Jerusalem. I was not myself a hidden child, nor had I lived in an occupied country during World War II.

I searched the Binyanei Haoma for a familiar face. I knew in my heart that there was no chance of recognizing any child I had found in France those many years ago, nor would I be recognized by them.

I scanned the notice boards. Each notice told a tragic story -- searching for a brother, a sister, anyone who knew the family.

Emotionally drained, I sat down to refresh myself with a cup of coffee. I was soon joined by a complete stranger who asked if she could share my table. We started to talk, as complete strangers do. She told me she lived in Jerusalem, but came from France in the 1950s. Hearing us speak French, another woman asked if she could join us. We introduced ourselves. . . Ariella, Zoe and myself.

When the two women discovered that they shared many experiences, their conversation became more and more animated, words intermingling with sobs and tears as they relived their past.

They were both "abandoned children." It was the first time I had heard this expression. I was to understand much better some of the problems that had confronted me in my search all those years ago. To save their children from deportation, parents declared them "abandoned." They were then given to the French Social Services and placed in foster homes.

The foster parents were ignorant that these were Jewish children or they would never have accepted them, endangering their own lives.

Each woman was crying and being consoled by the other. "It's good to cry," sobbed Ariella. "I haven't cried for 50 years," said Zoe.

Ariella had been placed with a family in a village. Her three-year-old sister went to another family on the other side of the village. Though her family was not very observant, Ariella knew she was Jewish and she had been warned not to tell. From a life of comfort, Ariella told us she had been left, without understanding why, in a strange place with strange people. She lived as a French peasant, with rough clothes, strange food and having to go to church. She lived there for three years and was not unhappy.

Ariella's father managed to escape capture. He returned to the Director of Social Services who had placed his daughters. Fortunately it was the same man who had taken the girls, and they were reunited with their father. Their mother had died in a concentration camp.

Other parents were not so lucky. The records of the abandoned children were lost and because the children were considered officially abandoned, there was no trace of them.

Ariella and Zoe had been rescued by their fathers. Both mothers had perished in camps. Both fathers remarried. Neither stepmother really wanted them.

Ariella overcame her difficulties, married another hidden child and eventually came to live in Israel. Because being a Jew had caused her so much pain and suffering, Zoe denied her Jewish identity. She married a Catholic, had three children and raised them as Catholics.

One of Zoe's sons visited Israel, felt so much at home, he wanted to stay, and Zoe was very tempted to tell him the truth about himself. When her husband learned that she was Jewish, he divorced her. Her children, discovering that they had a Jewish mother, were delighted and not at all angry that she had deceived them. They immediately declared themselves to be Jews. Zoe and her children now live in Paris as Jews. She said that for the first time since she had been "hidden" she was happy.

As I was leaving the hall, I was stopped by Suzanne. "I heard you speaking French when I passed your table. Do you know anyone who was in the Children's Home at Malmaison?" I did know someone and Suzanne was finally able to fill in six blank years of her life.

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