Élisabeth couldn’t help but give a soft huff of a laugh, acknowledging the truth in his words.
“The way a library should be, non?” she asked, mostly rhetorically.
Truth be told, she had met most of the important people - good and bad - in her life through her work in the various libraries she’d leant her skills to over the decades. Then again, she tended to bury herself in her work until it simply became her life. It shouldn’t have been all that surprising a revelation.
She couldn’t help but glance at the pile of books he’d picked up thus far. None of the titles were familiar - she’d long since given up being a children’s librarian - although the age range was easily identifiable from the bright colors and text on the covers. Something about it triggered something unusual in Élisabeth, and before she realized what she was doing, she found herself handing him one of the books she’d just perused, having replaced it for its all-too familiar setting. Still, it seemed to her to be an interesting enough read to anyone who hadn’t lived through the German occupation of France, and so she saw fit to pull it once again from the shelf as an offering.
“Your mind will suffer if all you read is your children’s books,” she told him, grateful that her voice at least had not lost all of its sharpness. “Perhaps this one will interest you.”