Châtelet was a major junction point, and even more crowded than Montparnasse had been, and Lucy and Elizabeth found themselves buffeted from every direction as they made their way to the platform for the number 1 line, which would take them to Bastille, near the place des Vosges. At one point Elizabeth was knocked backward into her mother, who saved her from falling by grabbing her arms. It was then that Lucy realized Elizabeth’s shoulder bag was missing.

“Your bag!” she exclaimed. “Didn’t you have a bag?”

Elizabeth patted her chest, discovering her shoulder bag was indeed gone. “Pickpockets!” she wailed. “Bastards! I hate Paris! I want to go home!”

Battered and exhausted, Lucy could see her point. “Were you carrying anything valuable?”

“No, just stuff. I’ve learned to keep my money and ID and credit cards in a pouch I tuck into my waistband. I don’t keep any cash in my bag, but, damn it, that thief got my new Chanel mascara!”

“How did it happen? I never saw anything suspicious.”

“In that crowd anything could happen. They use knives and cut the strap. I should’ve been more careful.”

It was difficult to carry on a conversation in the noisy station, and Lucy was at the end of her rope. The station was so crowded, she felt the beginning of a panic attack and decided she had to get away from all the people and get some air as quickly as possible. “Let’s get a taxi,” she said, grabbing Elizabeth’s hand and pulling her toward the exit.

Once they were on the street, however, Elizabeth delivered some bad news. “I’m pretty sure the taxi drivers will be protesting in sympathy with the transit workers.”

“No taxis?”

“Probably not. It’s back in the Métro, or else we’ll have to walk.”

“Well, I’m not going back,” declared Lucy. “The exercise will do us good.”

Mother and daughter decided to take a break in a café, where they had glasses of lemonade and used the facilities before beginning the long trek to the Marais. There was plenty to see in the streets, where they observed grand-mères walking along with their adorable grandchildren, couples holding hands, funny little Smart cars, and always the beautifully decorated shop windows. In addition to the pedestrians, the sidewalks were filled with café tables and chairs, and the displays of fruits, vegetables, and flowers that spilled from the stores. Before long Lucy found herself in familiar territory and paused at one shop to buy a bunch of bright yellow daffodils. She buried her nose in the petals as they continued on their way, inhaling the musky, springlike scent.

“Pretty,” said Elizabeth. “I missed the changing seasons when I was in Florida.”

“Well, spring’s rather disappointing in Maine, but fall is pretty spectacular,” said Lucy. “What with the leaves turning colors and apple picking and the pumpkin festival.”