The Diary of Louise Lefraire

by KG

Excerpt from the Diary of Louise Lefraire: September 5, 1934

Perhaps I should start at the beginning...

I am Louise Lefraire; born in Paris in 1909. My family lived in a small flat on the rue Cardinal Lemoine near the Boulevard St.-Germain.

As a teenager, in the 1920's, I spent hours wandering through the shelves at Sylvia Beach's bookstore, Shakespeare and Company. I secretly listened to the conversations between Sylvia and Hemingway, Joyce and Fitzgerald. I spent so much time in the bookstore that Sylvia eventually decided to hire me.

In 1933 Sylvia sold the bookstore to a man named Pierre Cobin. He wrote asking me to stay on and manage the store. We corresponded frequently over the next year -- his letters arrived with postmarks from all over the world -- but we never met in person.

I imagined Pierre Cobin to be an immensely wealthy older man who traveled the world, living a life of leisure. Or I dreamed that he was the young, handsome head of a world-wide crime syndicate, constantly traveling in order to personally oversee his criminal empire.

So when I received a letter saying that he would arrive at the bookstore on the following Saturday, I was, as I said, both intrigued and disappointed...

He arrived promptly at 2:00 PM. At first I didn't even suspect that he was the mysterious M. Cobin. He was about my age, tall and extremely slender, dressed in a simple gray suit and black wool overcoat. His hair was cut unfashionably short. I assumed he was just another customer lost in the Latin poetry section.

"May I help you?"

"Madamoiselle Lefraire," he asked with a distinctive British accent.

Once introductions were made we spent the next few hours in a long, dull discussion of the accounts and the availability of storage space in the basement.

When M. Cobin left that evening, I collapsed into my chair deeply depressed that my fantasies had been so very wrong. Not that Pierre Cobin wasn't handsome in a shy, retiring sort of way. But he seemed much too interested in accounts and inventory for my taste.

At 5:30 I locked the store and began the short walk down the rue de l'Odeon to my flat. As I passed the alley, one block from the store, a figure ran from the darkness and we collided. At first I struggled, smashing the heel of my shoe into my attacker's toes.

"Bloody hell," exclaimed the man in that unmistakable British voice.

"M. Cobin," I gasped.

"Madamoiselle Lefraire, I need to get away...quickly."

"Get away? Is someone chasing you," I asked glancing down the alley for signs of his pursuer.

"Yes," he said, and then mysteriously added, "someone with a very big sword."

As we ran towards my flat, Pierre Cobin suddenly seemed a great deal more attractive than I had previously noticed. Six weeks later we were married.

Excerpt from the Diary of Louise Lefraire: October 11, 1940

My nervousness made me clumsy and as I opened the book, the note that was hidden within fell out onto the floor. As I reached to pick it up, I was suprised to see another hand close over the piece of paper. I looked up into the extremely angry eyes of my husband, Pierre. He simply placed the note, containing a coded message, in my hand and left the store.

I spent the rest of the day both anticipating and dreading the inevitable approach of 5:00 PM. At five a man with the resistance, who I knew only as Olivier, would come to borrow a book into which I would slip the note. Then I would make my way home, where my husband's disapproval would surely be waiting.

Olivier arrived exactly on time, and I delivered the note without incident. I was so exhilarated by this successful mission that I literally ran home, completely forgetting the lecture on the dangerous nature of my actions that Pierre had been rehearsing all afternoon long.

Sometimes I simply don't understand Pierre. There are many things about his life that he won't tell me; I know that he is certainly much more than the quiet book shop owner he pretends to be. And yet he seems happy in that role. I'm not sure I can continue to live like this; I need a little more excitement in my life...

Excerpt from the Diary of Methos: January 1, 1941

I woke this morning to an empty house and a note. Dear Pierre, Leaving is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and yet I have to go...As I read it, I was suprised to find myself experiencing a few moments of white hot fury, an emotion I haven't felt for a least a few lifetimes.

I spent the rest of the morning staring at the dress that Louise wore to the party last night. She seemed happy. I've touched the soft black velvet a hundred times; somehow I still can't believe she's gone.

My anger eventually turned to acceptance...I've always known that she married the wrong man.

Louise married Pierre Cobin; she should have married Methos.

Adam Pierson walked down the rue de l'Odeon on his way to Shakespeare and Company. The shop's basement had flooded that winter and he had a great deal of work to do if he wanted to save his most precious books and papers.

"Pierre," a fashionably dressed, silver-haired woman called from the doorway of a cafe as he passed. Adam glanced around, curious to see who Pierre was, and was suprised to realize he was the only person on the sidewalk.

"Pierre Cobin," the woman said looking directly at Adam.

Adam Pierson was so stunned to hear that name again that he stopped and stared open-mouthed at the woman. After 56 years she looked drastically different, and yet he would recognize her anywhere.

"Louise," he said before he could stop himself.

Louise Lefraire smiled at the still very young man she had been married to so many years ago. "Pierre, I think you have some explaining to do," she said calmly.

The Adam Pierson part of him was furiously concocting explanations, but the part of him that was Methos finally smiled.

"I suppose I do," he said. Then he added, "I think its time you finally met someone named Methos."