At the foot of the stone steps a short bowlegged man was roasting chestnuts and rocking rapidly from side to side, either to fight the cold or because his bladder was full. Rehv bought a bag of chestnuts for his breakfast. Automatically the little man’s hands, turning blue at the fingertips, filled the bag and gave Rehv his change; the man himself was absorbed in his rocking, his dark eyes far away, as far away as the Mediterranean, Rehv thought. He climbed the stone steps, his mind on what he and the chestnut man had in common. Inside he found an empty table and gathered a pile of books. He read about nutrition during pregnancy, fetal growth, birth, babies, childhood development. For Lena he had known very little about these things. He had relied on Naomi. Now he would rely on himself. He read quickly, bent over the black formations arranged in endless rows on the white pages. He felt hurried, pressed, as though another pair of eyes was chasing his across the paragraphs. He had thought of leaving La Basquaise to give himself more time, but Paulette’s expenses were very high.
