Paris: The Novel

companies were tried. But the task was almost beyond them, and they could hardly be blamed. Never before had they been asked to take such huge numbers of passengers up to such unheard-of heights. The elevators taking passengers the 550 feet from the second platform to the top posed less of a problem. But how to raise an elevator that was to travel from the ground, nearly 400 feet to the second platform, on tracks with a variable curve?
    In the end, two systems were used for the four feet of the tower. French engineers supplied two inventively designed chain elevators that at least got people from the ground to the first platform. But the American Otis Elevator Company had invented a brilliantly contrived system, part hydraulic elevator, part railroad, that took passengers up the other two legs of the tower, and continued all the way up to the second platform.
    Thomas would tell her enthusiastically about all that was happening.
    “Monsieur Eiffel says the Otis elevator designs will be years ahead of the French. But we mustn’t say so,” he confided. “When the gallery is completed up at the top, they’re building a private office for Monsieur Eiffel above it. He says that’s going to be his office for the rest of his life. Imagine it: working each day up in the clouds like that, like a god.”
    If Thomas loved his work, Édith thought, so much the better. And if he worshipped Monsieur Eiffel, there was no harm in that. “Just think,” he’d often remind her, “very soon, my name will be painted up there on the tower, because I helped to build it.”
    Sometimes, during these weeks, Édith would walk over to the Trocadéro before she went to work in the lycée and gaze into the sky where Thomas was working. If the day was misty, she might not be able to see the upper part of the tower at all. More often, under a blanket of cloud, and through the smoke from a thousand chimneys, she would see a faint hint of firelight in the sky as the rivets were heated on their little braziers high in the girders. But sometimes, if the sky was clear, she would see those same braziers twinkle like stars, and smile, wondering if Thomas was standing with his hammer beside one of them.
    They had not made love again after Christmas Day. He had wantedto. “I have protection,” he had told her. But she had been reluctant. “Not just yet,” she had told him, several times. He’d been rather hurt and frustrated, and she knew that her refusal made no sense. But for reasons she could not explain, she did not want to give herself to him again. Not yet. Not until she had decided what to do.
    It was in mid-January that she had started to get alarmed. But she hoped she might be wrong, and she told nobody. By mid-February, there could be no doubt. It was useless to talk to her mother, but she went to see Aunt Adeline.
    “Idiot!” her aunt cried. “When?” And when Édith told her the when and where, “You’re insane. And he took no precautions?”
    “We weren’t planning to. It just happened.”
    “Have you told him?”
    “No.”
    “Why?”
    “Because he’d want to have the child and get married. I know him.”
    “Ah.” Aunt Adeline considered. “Faced with the reality, he might not be so keen.”
    “No. It’s his character.”
    “Do you love him?”
    “He looked for me all over Paris, for a year. I couldn’t believe it, but it’s true. And since he found me, he’s never given up.”
    “I didn’t ask if he loved you. I asked if you loved him.”
    “He’s nice with me. He’s considerate. He tries to please me. And he’s honest. I like that. And I find him seductive. I want him when he’s there.”
    “He has no money.”
    “I can’t complain. Nor have I.”
    “We’ll try to get you a little. You know that I think you can do better.”
    “People with a little money like to find other people with a little money too. Maybe rich people marry who they like.”
    “No, they don’t. Their families see to that.”
    “He’s loyal. At least I don’t think he’d walk out on me like my father.”
    Aunt Adeline was silent for a moment. Then she said:
    “I don’t want to tell Monsieur Ney. He wouldn’t be pleased at all.” She considered. “Perhaps I could arrange for you to go away for a while. You could have the child. But we’d have to give the child up for adoption. Nobody need be any the wiser. That’s one alternative.” She looked sadly at Édith. “Or, I know a doctor who could take care of