The Club Dumas by Arturo Perez-Reverte & Sonia Soto

Author:Arturo Perez-Reverte & Sonia Soto [Perez-Reverte, Arturo & Soto, Sonia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Thriller, General, Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 9781435282025
Google: 9ilUPgAACAAJ
Publisher: Paw Prints
Published: 2008-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

HE CROSSED THE ROAD to the other bookshop. Outside, under an awning, stacks of books were piled up on trestle tables. The girl was still there, rummaging among the books and bunches of old pictures and postcards. She was standing against the light. The sun was on her shoulders, turning the hair on the back of her head and her temples golden. She didn’t stop what she was doing when he arrived.

“Which one would you choose?” she asked. She was hesitating between a sepia postcard of Tristan and Isolde embracing and another of Daumier’s The Picture Hunter. Undecided, she held them out in front of her.

“Take both,” suggested Corso. In the corner of his eye he caught sight of a man who had stopped at the stall and was about to reach for a thick bundle of cards held together by a rubber band. Corso, with the reflex of a hunter, grabbed the packet. The man left, muttering. Corso looked through the cards and chose several with a Napoleonic theme: Empress Marie Louise, the Bonaparte family, the death of the Emperor, and his final victory—a Polish lancer and two hussars on horseback in front of the cathedral at Reims, during the French campaign of 1814, waving flags snatched from the enemy. After hesitating a moment, he added one of Marshall Ney in dress uniform and another of an elderly Wellington, posing for posterity. Lucky old devil.

The girl’s long tanned hands moved deftly through the cards and yellowed printed paper. She chose a few more postcards: Robespierre, Saint-Just, and an elegant portrait of Richelieu in his cardinal’s habit and wearing the insignia of the Order of the Holy Spirit.

“How appropriate,” remarked Corso acidly.

She didn’t answer. She moved on toward a pile of books, and the sun slid across her shoulders, enveloping Corso in a golden haze. Dazzled, he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the girl was showing him a thick volume in quarto.

“What do you think?”

He glanced at it: The Three Musketeers, with the original illustrations by Leloir, bound in cloth and leather, in good condition. Looking at her, he saw that she had a lopsided smile and was waiting, watching him intently.

“Nice edition,” was all he said. “Are you intending to read it?”

“Of course. Don’t tell me the ending.”

Corso laughed halfheartedly.

“As if I could tell you the ending,” he said, sorting the bundles of cards.

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