Chasing Sylvia Beach by Cynthia Morris Read Free Book Online

operated, you know.” He winked.
    Lily didn’t know how to respond to the wink. She giggled nervously.
    “Thanks, thanks very much,” she said. She wished she had something more intelligent to say but she couldn’t muster a word.
    He bowed. “At your service. You are American, aren’t you?”
    “Of course!”
    He smiled. “Well, my dear American, it would be my pleasure to see you again. Paris can be smaller than you think.”

“EXCUSE ME, OFFICER, can you tell me where I can find the Crédit Municipal?” Lily spoke in halting French to a passing policeman. He responded, speaking quickly and gesturing up the street with his baton.
    “Only a few steps from here, mademoiselle, continue up this street, then look for it on your right. You cannot miss it. You will see a big door with a sign saying CRÉDIT MUNICIPAL,” he said.
    “Merci.” Lily was fairly sure she understood what he’d said.
    “It’s what I’m here for, mademoiselle,” he replied. He adjusted his cap and continued on. Finally, someone had given her a straight answer. She’d stopped two other people to ask directions. The first guy had offered to accompany her, but his smile had seemed more lecherous than kind. The second man cheerfully told her to go to her aunt. Lily had nodded politely, wondering if this was some sort of French humor. Was he a pervert? She had asked him again for the directions to Crédit Municipal, firmly pronouncing the name in case he had misunderstood her, and he had reeled off a series of directions, not mentioning the aunt this time.
    Lily finally reached her destination. She hadn’t realized how tense she had been until the relief of arrival flooded her body. The route had been harrowing. Twice she had gotten lost in a Paris she no longer recognized. The streets and alleys were busier and more derelict in 1937 than what she knew from her student days. She didn’t feel safe, especially when she got lost the first time and had to pass through an alley where three decrepit-looking men lingered in the middle of the street, waving their cigarette stubs as they argued among themselves. They stared at her, and the short one made a comment that Lily didn’t catch but that made the others laugh. Safely past them and on a main street once again, her fear quickly turned to anger. Who were they to make jokes about her! The anger made her careless, and after returning to the same corner three times, she had finally surrendered and asked for directions from the policeman.
    But now she was okay and soon she’d have money. She stood before the imposing façade of classical architecture. The enormous doorway loomed above her. Carved into the limestone next to it was “Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité.” One of the wooden doors was propped open, as if inviting Lily in. She peeked into the porte cochere, where nobles and bourgeois had once entered by horse-drawn carriage and were deposited in the honor court. A not-so-noble couple emerged from the courtyard, the woman dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Affixed to the wall near the door, notices in a glassed-in box announced upcoming auction dates in blocky art deco letters. Each auction specialized in a different category: Friday, jewelry was sold, the following Monday, small furniture.
    Lily followed an elderly woman who entered as if she knew her way. They passed through a wide covered hallway lined with limestone columns. The hall gave onto a large courtyard surrounded on all sides by a three-story building. Lily paused, gazing up at the windows, wondering what went on behind the imposing façade. The old woman didn’t hesitate, disappearing into a door in the corner with a sign above it announcing Prêts sur gages. Lily followed, not sure what the words meant but hoping that she was in the right place.
    She found herself in a large room. It was dimly lit, as if the workers were using only half the lighting to conserve energy. A row of windows behind bars, like those of a