The rain stops; the last drop falls on the rue de l'Odéon. Across the slick, shimmering atmosphere purrs a low, faint rumble. Suddenly, a glimmering light flows, slicing the gray glaze: in solemn silence a splendid Rolls arrives. It approaches, weightless, and dims the crystal mirage of its astonishing headlights. Like an endless sigh, it glides, seeping, stealthy, gentle. Quickly, a murmur [rumor] softly unglues the wheels from the damp pavement, and they take off smoothly. Cutting through the street along the stream of houses, the car moves on until it chances upon a banner that, feinting from a façade, obliges it to stop. It is detained before a bookstore whose sign reads, “Shakespeare and Company.” On the poster hanging above, perpendicular and stylized, appears the sketched silhouette of Old Will.