Chasing Sylvia Beach Read Online Free PDF

now that she had something to hide.
    “Denver, I do not know it. Do you have grates-ciel?”
    “Gracielles? What’s that?”
    He raised his arm up above his head. “The big buildings in New York!”
    “Oh, skyscrapers!” Lily responded. His enthusiasm for New York architecture made her laugh.
    “It’s good to see you smile,” he said.
    She blushed and glanced away, noticing croissant flakes scattered on her shirt. Brushing them away, she adjusted her jacket.
    “You have skyscrapers in Denver?”
    She liked the way he pronounced the word, drawing out the syllables in an attempted American accent.
    “Sure.” She shrugged. She didn’t know what Denver was like in the thirties. She’d given all of her historical interest to Paris and Europe. Pointing to the book on his lap, she asked, “What are you reading?”
    He held up a tattered white paperback. “ Le Coup de Lune . It is a detective novel that takes place in Afrique.” Paul handed it to Lily. She inspected the front and back covers, then opened to the frontispiece. She knew of Simenon—yet another Belgian the French would love to appropriate as their own hero—but she had never read any of his mysteries.
    “I read detective novels some nights at work. It helps me to stay awake. But I’m meant to be studying this.” He held up Le Droit Civil . “For my law studies.” Paul brought his hand to his mouth to cover a yawn. “Désolé,” he said.
    “Oh, you’re tired! I should go.” She began to rise but Paul gestured for her to stay.
    “Non! Yes, it’s true, I’m tired. I worked all night and I have to go to class this afternoon.” Paul lay back on the pillow. “I just go to close my eyes, who hurt a little. But you can stay here—that does not bother me.”
    He held his book across his chest and closed his eyes. Lily watched Paul settle in, envying him the simple comfort of falling asleep in his own bed. He had a small mole just above his lip, and his dove-gray shirt, meticulously ironed, had come un-tucked from his pants. His chest rose and fell, moving the book like a small ship moored on his body. Lily was about to speak when she realized that he had already nodded off. His lips fell apart and a small poof of air escaped.
    She relaxed for the first time since she’d awakened. The coffee and croissants had soothed her. Surveying the desk, she scanned the titles of Paul’s books: Philosophie du Droit, Code Civil, Thomas Hobbes et le Droit Naturel . They all sounded awfully boring to Lily. She drifted into a reverie about the books she had on her desk at home: a couple of novels, a volume of essays, a book about how to write. She lay her forearms, then her head, on Paul’s desk, and let her eyes close. The gentle rhythm of Paul’s breathing lulled her toward sleep. Images skittered across her mind’s eye: a book closing, the inside of a tilting airplane, a card fluttering to the carpet.
    The last scene jerked her upright. That card! she thought, pulling it from her pocket. Yes, it was clearly an invitation to the reading at the shop. This confirmed her instinct to go back to the bookstore.
    But just as she decided to leave, Lily’s thinking became confused. I’m safe here , she told herself. If I leave, who knows if I will find shelter again. I don’t want a replay of last night. And what if that man is searching for me? A shudder passed through her body. But at the same time, she couldn’t stay there doing nothing. She frowned, wishing Paul were awake to help her sort it out. The card from Shakespeare and Company couldn’t have been in her pocket by chance. She must go back and talk to Sylvia Beach.
    Lily inspected herself in the mirror. She looked a little better after eating, her blue eyes bright again now that she’d slept. She looked younger somehow, younger than twenty-three. She fixed her hair, pulling the waves over her ears. Adjusting the lapels of her jacket, she took a deep breath and convinced herself she was ready to face