Paris: The Novel (42 page)

Thomas had seen Édith only once since the accident. He had met her as usual outside the lycée. She had been off work for a couple of days, she told him, and she wouldn’t be free that Sunday. He wanted to talk a little about what had happened, but she seemed preoccupied, and he left feeling uncertain about where he stood with her.

So it was not surprising if, up on Montmartre that Sunday, his family found him rather subdued. Was everything all right at work, his father asked?

“Not bad,” he replied. “Monsieur Eiffel himself told me I’d be getting my bonus at the end.”

“And your name written up,” his father said proudly.

Thomas changed the subject.

“I’ll be looking for work again, as soon as I’m finished on the tower,” he reminded them.

In the afternoon, he went for a walk with his brother.

“How’s Édith?” asked Luc.

“All right.”

“That’s good.” It seemed to Thomas that his brother had something he’d been waiting to tell him. But they walked on in silence for a little way before Luc asked him casually: “Have you seen the posters for the Wild West show?”

One could hardly miss them. They seemed to be sprouting on every billboard in Paris. A huge buffalo, racing across the prairie, took up most of the picture. Inset on his powerful body, however, was an oval portrait of the handsome and unmistakable features of Colonel W. F. Cody, Buffalo Bill himself, with beard, mustache and cowboy hat, and underneath him just two words in French.

Je Viens:
I am coming.

Everyone had heard of Buffalo Bill’s circus. It had already had a triumphant tour in England. People might not be sure exactly what the spectacle entailed, but it was known to be exotic, and exciting. It would be one of the biggest side attractions of the Universal Exposition.

“I was given a couple of tickets,” said Luc. “Thought you might like them. You could take Édith.” He pulled a little packet out of his pocket, carefully extracted two tickets and handed them to Thomas to see. Thomas stared at them.

“But this is for the grand opening! How in the world did you get them?”

“A gentleman gave them to me.” Luc grinned. “I’d helped him with something.”

“But you should go,” protested Thomas.

“No. I want you to have them.”

“But they’re for the grand opening,” Thomas repeated.

“That’s right,” said Luc.

It was Wednesday before he saw Édith, but this time she agreed to accompany him to the bar they’d gone to the first time they met. She even agreed to eat a little.

All the same, Thomas sensed that she was uncertain about something, and he was anxious to find out exactly what it was.

“I’ve been worried about you,” he said.

“I’m all right.”

“I feel terrible about what happened. I never meant to put you through that.”

“You shouldn’t. After all, it was my fault.”

“Your fault?” He stared at her in astonishment.

“Yes. If I hadn’t told him to take a bow …”

“Édith.” He put his arm around her shoulder. “I never even thought of such a thing. Pepe was going to do that anyway, I promise you. That’s just the way he was.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, but she was weighing his words.

“You really think so?” she said at last.

“Of course. I know it.” He reached over and kissed her head. “You can put that idea out of your mind. It isn’t so.”

She stared down at the table. After a pause, she picked up her glass of red wine, took a slow sip, and put it down on the table again, still holding the stem for a little while, before finally releasing it.

“There’s something else you should know,” she said, and looked up into his face.

Then she told him about the miscarriage.

When she had finished, he was left staring at her openmouthed.

“I had no idea you were pregnant,” he said.

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to.”

“I thought … after what happened at Christmas, and then you were suddenly cold …”

“I was anxious. And upset. Perhaps I felt angry with you. I suppose … it makes no sense, but I was afraid to be with you.”

“I thought maybe you didn’t like me.”

“I know.”

“Oh.” He considered. “Are you still angry with me now?”

“No.”

“How do you feel about everything.”

“When you lose a baby, even so early when, you know, there’s hardly anything, you feel a sort of grief.” She shrugged. “But now, I feel relief. I can’t deny that. I don’t want a baby, Thomas. I mean, not now.”

“Of course.” He pulled her to him and held her closer. “You could have told me. You can trust me.”

She nodded silently. She knew that.

They talked quietly for a little while. It seemed to Thomas that her mood was lightening. She felt warm beside him.

“Would you like to do something dangerous?” he suddenly asked. He felt her stiffen, and he laughed. “Would you like to go to the Wild West show?”

On the first day of April 1889, at the start of the afternoon, Monsieur Eiffel gave a party at the tower for the workers, almost two hundred of them, in the presence of a large company of the great men of the city. The prime minister was there, the entire municipal council, numerous dignitaries, all formally dressed in top hats, together with their wives and children. Among these, Thomas noted with amazement, were Monsieur Ney and his daughter, Hortense, elegant in a blue silk dress in the latest fashion. Somehow, deploying his two hounds, Loyalty and Gratitude, the huntsman from his small attorney’s office had managed to bring down this impressive quarry. Hortense, as usual, looked pale and strangely sensual as her father quietly insinuated himself in one group after another. Surely, Thomas thought, amid such a distinguished gathering, the small-time attorney should be able to find a worthy suitor for his daughter’s hand.

It was a windy day. The sun showed through the clouds as they chased across the sky.

Recently Thomas had gone to a tailor in Montmartre who made men’s clothes for a price that the artists and artisans could afford. From the tailor he had acquired a suit with a short coat in which he looked very smart, and he was wearing it today.

At one thirty precisely, Eiffel and a party of more than a hundred dignitaries prepared to ascend the tower. It was a pity that the elevators were still not working, but that did not deter them from ascending the stairs to the first platform. One of the deputies, afraid of heights, insisted that he
would go up all the same, which he did with a silk scarf wrapped around his eyes.

Eiffel took his time. Every little while he would pause to explain this or that detail of the construction, and let the visitors catch their breath. On the first platform, the bar, brasserie and two restaurants, one French and one Russian, were still being fitted out for the public opening the following month.

The more determined members then accompanied Eiffel on the long climb up to the second platform. And a still smaller group ascended to the very top, where Eiffel ran the national Tricolor flag up the flagpole where it flapped in the wind, a thousand feet high in the sky. And at this patriotic signal, a burst of fireworks sent out the equivalent of a twenty-one-gun salute from the second platform.

It took a long time for them to come down. The wind was growing stronger, and Thomas wondered if it was going to rain. But they all sat down to their feast of ham, German sausage and cheese.

And if there was a hint of Eiffel’s Germanic origins in this choice of food, it was quickly dispelled both by the champagne which was served, and the patriotic speeches which followed.

Eiffel thanked them all, and announced that the names of France’s greatest scientists would be painted in gold on the frieze of the first platform. The prime minister thanked Eiffel, and invested him as an officer of the Légion d’honneur. They all toasted the builder, and each other, and France.

Then, as the wind got up and the rain threatened, they all dispersed to their homes. But not before one tiny incident occurred.

Thomas was just heading toward the Pont d’Iéna, with the first drops of rain patting his face, when he felt a hand on his arm. It was Jean Compagnon.

The burly man shook his hand and gave him a small card. On it was written the name of a bar.

“They always know where to find me there,” he said. “Let me know if you need a reference.” Then, before Thomas could thank him, he was gone.

The Universal Exposition of 1889 officially opened on the sixth day of May. Visitors looked in awe at the vast iron tower under which they
passed. They had to wait until the fair’s second week before they could go up it, but even if they didn’t ascend, they found plenty in the huge fair to interest them. There were the exhibits from all corners of the world. There was a replica of a Cairo street and Egyptian market, with cafés serving Turkish coffee and entertaining the customers with belly dancers. The site was so huge that a delightful miniature train took passengers from the Champ de Mars to the esplanade by Les Invalides, where they found Oriental rickshaws.

The fair might be celebrating the centenary of the French Revolution and its ideals of Liberty, Equality and Fraternity, but the honor of France demanded that visitors should also be reminded of her far-flung colonies; and so there were large and exotic exhibits from the colonies of Algeria, Tunisia, Senegal, Polynesia, Cambodia and others. If the British had an empire, so did France.

But while the Eiffel Tower was the staggering glory of the fair, it had to be admitted that the pavilion which astounded everyone was the one supplied, at his own expense, by Thomas Edison, who was sailing from America to Paris himself in August. The range of inventions on view was staggering, and in keeping with the shared republican values of America and France, it showed how, very soon, the advances of modern science would bring electricity, telephones and other wonderful new conveniences not only to the wealthy, but to the masses. Most fascinating of all was the new phonograph with its cylinders, which no one had ever seen before.

The huge numbers of Americans who were filling Paris to see the exhibition might feel delight and gratification that the man who’d built the Statue of Liberty and their own Thomas Edison were the stars.

And then of course, just twelve days after the opening of the fair, Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show was due to open on a Saturday afternoon.