Journalists and photographers outside the gates of the Palais Bourbon (seat of the French National Assembly), late 1939-early 1940.

Source:
Paris en Images, copyright LAPI / Roger-Viollet (LAP-473):
Click here to view source.

Gaito Gazdanov's Paris / 14

The journalist

At that moment I felt a hand on my shoulder. A stranger asked if I were the driver of the taxi parked outside the cafe.

"Good night, old friend, I said to Platon. We’ll return to this subject later if you don’t mind." Platon shook hands with me and my fare and I went out.

He was a journalist with a mocking expression and lively little eyes who was going to the Boulevarde Barbès. He got in beside me, gave me the address, and then turned to me as the car pulled away.

"Pardon my curiosity, but may I ask what you were about to discuss with your companion?"

"Nietzsche."

"Are you angry with your family?"

"Me? No, not at all."

"Then why do you drive a taxi?"

"I’d prefer to drive a Rolls-Royce but I haven’t had the opportunity."

"OK, OK, I won’t press you."

But when we arrived, before he got out, he suddenly asked:

"Perhaps you’re a foreigner?"

"No, I was born in rue de Belleville, number 42; my father had a butcher’s shop there. Maybe you knew it?"

"No."

He went off shaking his head. [146-147]