Читать книгу The Adventures of Mademoiselle Mac 2-Book Bundle - Christopher Ward - Страница 5

Airport. Waiting room. Plane. Luggage. Customs. Bus. Paris!!!

Most of a day and almost 6,000 miles later, I stood with Penelope and ten other girls from my advanced French class outside the student residence in the Latin Quarter that was to be our home for the next week. A stream of taxis and a blustery wind swept down the ancient boulevard. The whole street resembled one giant café. We didn’t manage the “two straight lines” thing, but it still reminded me of an American version of Madeline and her posse. The school chaperone handed us off, a little too hastily, I thought, and disappeared into a nearby brasserie for the first café crème of the rest of her life. Our Parisian tour guide, Mademoiselle Lesage, batted her eyelashes like Audrey Hepburn and spoke in a bird-like trill.

“Les filles. Les filles! Girls! Bienvenue, welcome to Paris. Before we check you into your rooms, I want to say how excited I am to guide you on your architectural tour of the beauties of Paris. From the gothic majesty of Notre Dame to the breathtaking modernity of I.M. Pei’s Louvre pyramid, we shall see it all....”

“Those hand gestures look like she’s making doves fly out of a hat,” I whispered, and Penelope bit her lip. I checked my watch and realized I was going to have to sneak away soon if I was going to meet Rudee on time.

“... and the Renaissance creations that honour Marie de Medici, the Italian wife of Henry IV, whose sculpture is featured on the Pont Neuf....”

“Excuse me,” I interrupted, “Mademoiselle Lesage, is the Pont Neuf near here?”

“Oui, it’s but a few minutes walk along the quai,” she replied, gesturing vaguely toward the river. “But why do you ask?”

“Oh, it’s just that, you know ... Henry and Marie ... I’m a big fan of the reno at the Louvre.”

She continued with a puzzled expression. “And who could ignore the baroque glory of Louis XIV, the ‘Sun King,’ whose vision for the incomparable ‘Les Invalides’ was inspired, they say, by St. Peter’s in Rome.”

“Penelope, can you cover for me if I slip away for a few hours?”

“No problem,” she said, “when she’s taking attendance, I’ll just put on a beret, go to the other side of the group and look restless.”

“Ha-ha, and thanks,” I said, giving Penelope a little hug. Mademoiselle Lesage seemed to be just warming up.

“... and the tiny little oval windows known as ‘oeil de boeuf,’ which means ... anyone?” she paused hopefully, “eye of the beef, of course.”