Chapter IV -The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard

preparations for her approaching marriage.

This diary entry marked the beginning of a new chapter in my life. The City of Books, once my sanctuary of solitude and scholarly pursuit, had become alive with the presence of youth and love. Jeanne and Gelis, with their innocent affections, had transformed the atmosphere from one of solemn studiousness to one of hopeful brightness.

As I continued to compile the catalog of my beloved collection for its eventual sale, each book I handled felt like a farewell to an old friend, each with its own story, its own place in my heart. Yet the heaviness of these goodbyes was lifted by the spirit of what I was giving Jeanne—a future, a hope, a new beginning.

I watched Jeanne grow from the scared, fragile girl who had first arrived at my door, into a confident young woman, ready to step into a new life with Gelis. Their love, so pure and fervent, was a reminder of the enduring power of human connection, a testament to the capacity for renewal and joy.

In organizing Jeanne’s dowry, I realized I was not just parting with my books, but passing on the wisdom, beauty, and intrigue they contained. This was not a loss but a legacy, a way to extend the life of these treasures beyond my own.

The moment of their betrothal was bittersweet, a culmination of my role as Jeanne’s guardian and the beginning of her journey without me. Yet, in her happiness, in the promise of their shared future, I found a deep, fulfilling peace.

The realization that I could be tempted to withhold some volumes for myself was as surprising as it was human. My early morning escapade, driven by an irresistible desire to keep a part of my collection, was a moment of weakness and fondness for the written word that had defined my life.

As I reconciled with this new role, no longer the solitary scholar but a benefactor of youth and love, I felt a profound shift within me. The City of Books, with its many memories and stories, would find a new life through Jeanne and Gelis, and through the love that had unexpectedly bloomed within its walls.

The prospect of leaving my library for a more pastoral life, following in the footsteps of Madame de Gabry, became a desire for simplicity, for living amid the natural beauty that had always inspired me in literature but had been absent from my lived experience.

In this chapter of my life, filled with unexpected joy, love, and sacrifice, I found the true essence of my legacy—not in the shelves of my library, but in the hearts of those I helped bring together and in the promise of the life they would build.