Chasing Sylvia Beach (26 page)

LILY WATCHED THE Paris evening scroll past the sedan’s window. She didn’t like to admit it, but she enjoyed the comfort of the powerful car. At the same time, she wished Paul were beside her, not Heinrich.

“You’re feeling well?” Heinrich interrupted the silence. Lily nodded. “Good. The embassy isn’t far, a quarter of an hour away. If there is not too much traffic.”

She smiled slightly and turned back to the window, watching Paris flow by.

“Are you nervous?”

“A little.” Lily kept her gaze on the city.

“Do not worry. It will be a very ordinary night. Boring conversations, a buffet, and champagne,” he said.

“I can tell you’re thrilled,” Lily said with a little laugh.

Heinrich joined her laughter. “That’s why I’m glad you’re my guest. You will hopefully help keep the evening lively.”

“I’m sure I’ll be out of place.”

Heinrich made a ch-ch sound. “Really, don’t worry. This will be a stuffy affair with officials, diplomats, men of the world and so on. Nothing frightening at all.”

Lily smiled, trying to pretend that going to an event at the German embassy wasn’t akin to entering the heart of the evil empire. She imagined the buzz there when the Germans occupied Paris. She prayed she wouldn’t have to witness it. Smiling brightly and leaning toward Heinrich, she cooed, “Oh, thank you. I thought I would be surrounded by Germans speaking about Goethe and Schiller. It would have been a bit boring, I think.”

Heinrich laughed. “You’re so amusing! First the Norse mythology and now Goethe and Schiller, too? What else are you hiding in there?” He touched her hair gently and Lily resisted ducking away.

In truth, Lily had never read these authors. She was drawing on a vague recollection from her studies at the Sorbonne. At a party, a handsome German had literally stunned her with his passion for these authors. He went on and on for nearly an hour, especially excited about Goethe. Lily had remained immobile the whole time, feigning polite silence. Finally, a friend rescued her, facilitating her escape from death by boredom.

Lily now prayed that Heinrich wouldn’t have any questions about these authors. Fortunately, the car slowed and turned into an honor court crowded with other cars. The Nazi flags floating above the portico of the
hôtel particulier
raised goose bumps on Lily’s arms. She clasped her gloved hands in her lap, feeling restricted by the soft fabric.

“Here we are,” Heinrich said.

Lily swallowed, trying to dampen the fear gathering in her belly. The limousine pulled up to the entry. Heinrich got out first, beating the porter to his duty. He reached for Lily, and steadying herself on his hand, she emerged from the car. No man in Denver had ever helped her so gallantly. At the foot of the grand staircase, two uniformed guards stood at attention. The usher bowed to Heinrich without a word. Heinrich asked a few questions in German and the usher showed him the list of guests. After a satisfied nod, Heinrich returned to Lily and escorted her up the stairs, her hand tucked onto his arm.

They found themselves in an enormous ornate ballroom, the crowd dressed in formal attire. The room buzzed with conversation. Lily said a silent thanks to whoever had sent her the dress. The din in the room was overwhelming to Lily. Most of the people there were older. She clung to Heinrich’s arm, a smile pasted on her face.

“Allow me to introduce you to my friends,” Heinrich said. He led Lily around, introducing her in French to his colleagues, tuxedoed men accompanied by women in floor-length evening gowns. He was completely at ease, introducing her by first name only. Lily felt like a trophy on his arm. But she reminded herself why she was there. She smiled and played the game in spite of a mean look from a woman wearing a decidedly un-modern dress. She caught an old man in a tailcoat regarding her with obvious interest. Lily tried to focus on Heinrich, staying close and quiet.

The waiters passed between the clusters of guests, bringing trays of canapés or white wine. Heinrich offered her something to eat but she shook her head, responding, “Non, merci.” She couldn’t imagine eating anything with her stomach so tense. She accepted a glass of wine, hoping it would give her courage. Scanning the room, she met the gaze of an older woman. The mutual recognition was instantaneous. It was the haughty countess she’d seen at the Crédit Municipal. The woman flushed and turned away immediately, continuing her conversation with the dapper man next to her. Finally, Lily found herself alone with Heinrich, away from the crowd for a moment. He smiled at her.

“You’re not bored, I hope. You’re very quiet.”

“For once, I’m sure you’re thinking,” she teased. “I’m just observing. I don’t think I’ve ever attended a party at an embassy before.”

“Don’t worry, Lily. Just enjoy yourself.” He squeezed her arm and went about his mingling. He chatted about this and that, introducing her to his friends, whose names she instantly forgot. She smiled, again and again, with great conviction, and exchanged a few banalities with people who ventured to ask her questions. Heinrich was in his element, and seemed pleased to have her at his side, silent or not. He worked the room, cigarette in hand, always smiling smoothly. They danced, Heinrich holding her close and sharing gossipy tidbits, harmless barbs at his “friends.” Lily pretended to share his interest. After a few dances, she squeezed his arm.

“Do you mind if we sit down somewhere away from the smoke? I’m starting to get a touch of a headache.”

“But of course. Come.”

He led her to a tiny alcove in the great hall, where they sat on a cushioned bench. He sat close and Lily felt slightly dizzy. She finally had his complete attention. Gripping her clutch, she brought the conversation around to books.

“Do you shop often at Sylvia’s?” she asked.

“When I am in Paris I make it a point to visit the bookstore,” he said. “I like knowing what Sylvia is up to.”

“What do you mean?”

“She always has new books, new magazines. Sylvia always knows what is new and—more importantly—what is good in literature now. It was quite kind of her to sell me that book the other day. I know she treasured it.”

“What’s so important about the book?”

“You are most inquisitive, Lily,” he said, and Lily wasn’t sure if he was pleased or displeased by it. “I’ll tell you: it is a very special book. It’s an eighteenth-century English translation of Norse mythology. It was written by an unidentified monk in the eleventh century. It is the only one remaining.”

“So it’s very valuable for you?”

Heinrich chuckled. “Not so much as a collectible. But there are certain scholars who would very much like to study this work that is part of our heritage.”

“How interesting. That makes it even more exciting to see it, then.” She brightened with false enthusiasm.

Heinrich put his hand on Lily’s and said, “Oh, yes! I promised you that you could see the book. Well, I always keep my promises.” He stood and extended his arm. “Shall we?”

She nodded and leaned in, catching his woodsy scent. They left the hall and found the two guards still guarding the staircase. The guards moved apart and stood at attention with a Nazi salute. Heinrich led Lily between them without response and mounted the stairs.

In his office, he lit a stained-glass table lamp. Two of the walls were lined with glassed-in bookshelves; the other held a bank of French windows. Lily nervously pulled off her gloves, and wished she could kick off the uncomfortable shoes. But that would appear too familiar, so she left them on, watching Heinrich carefully. Unlocking one of the bookcase doors, he retrieved the book and placed it carefully on the desk. It was as large as an encyclopedia but not nearly as thick. Lily admired the cover and tentatively opened to the table of contents. It was an illuminated manuscript, the letters lovingly written. She tried to scan the contents to divine what might be so interesting to the Nazis. But it was difficult to concentrate and decrypt the old English with Heinrich looking over her shoulder, leaning too close. After a few minutes, she pulled away from the book and glanced at him. His eyes were glassy as he gazed at her.

“It’s very beautiful,” she said.

“As are you, dear Lily,” he replied. He placed his hand on her shoulder and leaned forward to kiss her. His lips were on hers for several seconds before Lily drew away.

“Oh,” she said. “No! I’m flattered, of course. But it’s too soon for me,” she said. “Why don’t we go back to the others. The speeches must be starting.”

Heinrich blushed slightly and murmured agreement. He placed the book in a desk drawer and extinguished the lamp. A light from outside illuminated his face, looking at Lily with tenderness. She giggled nervously and he backed away, leading her out of the room. She made idle conversation about the book on the way back to the ballroom. The hallways were deserted and Lily wanted to get Heinrich back to the others as quickly as possible. They were nearly there when Lily stopped abruptly.

“Oops! I’m sorry, but I need to use the powder room. Where is it, please?”

“Oh. It’s just here.” Heinrich gestured to the door behind them.

“Thanks. Go ahead, I’ll find you in a minute.”

“I can wait. It’s not a problem.”

“But you’re missing the speeches!”

“It’s not too important; I can miss one or two of them.”

Lily didn’t know how to deflect his insistence. Finally, she spoke coyly.

“Thanks. It’s embarrassing but . . . I wouldn’t feel comfortable knowing someone is waiting for me behind the door.”

He took her hand, shaking his head and smiling gently.

“Of course. Don’t worry, I don’t want to embarrass you. I will be downstairs.”

“Thanks,” Lily said, feigning shyness.

She walked slowly toward the restroom, listening to Heinrich’s steps in the corridor, then going downstairs. Once inside, she looked in the mirror. Her face was flushed and her wide eyes revealed her terror. She gathered herself, tucking back a stray curl. At the door, her heart thumped as she peeked out to verify that the hallway was empty. Nobody. Just the echo of the reception below. She pulled off her shoes and ran to Heinrich’s office, closing the door quietly.

She kept the lights off, slipped back into her shoes, and rushed to the desk. She jerked open the drawer, revealing the book. With a sigh of relief, she grabbed it. Certainly it wouldn’t fit in her reticule. She had no way to conceal the book. She panicked—she had to get it out. But how? She scanned the room and spied a leather briefcase hanging on a hook in the corner. Grabbing it, she stuffed the book inside, then rushed to the window. Confirming that no one was in sight, she leaned over the railing and tossed the bag down. It landed behind a bush. She closed the window and glancing around spied her gloves on the desk. Grabbing them, she rushed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Rounding the corner, she came upon the German from the Exposition, Heinrich’s friend Karl. He seemed more aggressive in his full uniform. She froze, unable to speak.

“Guten nacht,” he said coldly. He continued in French. “I hope you have a good reason for your presence here and not below with the others?”

Lily’s legs shook under her gown. Her mind was suddenly empty. She stared at this man in his black Nazi uniform, his face steeled in righteous anger.

“Well?” he continued. “I am waiting! What are you doing here?” He spoke louder, as if Lily didn’t understand him. His shouts snapped her out of her stupor.

She stammered, “I left my gloves in the office.” She held them up. “Heinrich was showing me something and I forgot them there. Now I’m going . . .” She tried to move past him but he blocked her way, grabbing her arm and pulling her to him.

“Where are you going? You really think I believe that story?”

“Leave me alone!” she shouted in panic, trying to pull her arm back. But he merely held on more tightly.

“You will stay here while we sort this out. I will call the guard.”

Lily shrank back. “Let go of me!” She tried to pull her arm back but Karl kept his grip. “Let me go!”

Suddenly Lily heard a shout come from behind the German.

They turned to see Heinrich at the bottom of the stairs, his expression angry. He shouted in German to Karl, who explained, pointing first at Lily and the door of Heinrich’s office. Heinrich shook his head and sprinted up the stairs. He pulled Karl’s hand off Lily and placed himself between them.

“Are you all right?” he asked Lily.

“No! This guard dog attacked me without reason,” she said, nearly crying.

“What were you doing in his office?” Karl pushed at Heinrich’s shoulder to continue his interrogation.

“I told you, I left my gloves there!” Lily shouted. “After the powder room I went to retrieve them. Who knew it would be such a drama!” She moved next to Heinrich and took his arm. Heinrich patted her shoulder as if to reassure her that it was okay.

“This situation is not normal, Heinrich,” Karl insisted.

Heinrich responded firmly in German. Karl stiffened and looked away. With that, Heinrich escorted Lily down the stairs. She felt rather than saw Karl eyeing their backs angrily.

Lily began to breathe again on the way down, replacing her gloves. “I’m sorry, Heinrich. I didn’t mean to make trouble for you.”