conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide a description for a book titled Mission to Paris about Stahl, America, Europe with the genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Frederic Stahl, born of Viennese intelligentsia, ran away to sea at the age of seventeen. Embarking in America, his matinee idol looks and Old-World charm took him to Hollywood, and a life of movies and women. But by autumn 1939, the unease in Europe has spread even to Stahl's glamorous enclave. War has been declared, and though bullets and bombs are yet to fly, his decision to shoot a film in Paris seems ill-advised. The Parisians know this is their last spring, and a time to be passionate. Soon after his arrival, Stahl is drawn into a clandestine world of foreign correspondents, exiled Spanish republicans, and of course, spies of every sort. For as a celebrity from neutral America - who can travel across the continent freely - Stahl could be very useful indeed...Returning to the Brasserie Heiniger, and some of the colourful cast from The World at Night, this is a headily atmospheric portrait of a continent in the grip of The Phony War.
  
  
  the author has lived for long periods in France, especially in Paris, and has travelled as a journalist in Eastern Europe and Russia. He is the author of eleven novels, including The Polish Officer, The Foreign Correspondent and Spies of the Balkans.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Mission to Paris
  On the evening of the seventh, Barabee leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. It was quiet in the office—except for taxi drivers honking their horns out on the avenue—the end of the day; he was tired, he wanted to go home, he wanted a drink. But one more problem had to be dealt with and, seated across from him, Cristián Ferrar lit a cigarette and opened a file folder he'd brought to Barabee's office.
  Barabee brooded for a moment, then rubbed his eyes and glanced at his watch. "Well...," he said. Then, "We'll have to come up with a list of possible legal moves, Cristián, but not until tomorrow. In here? Ten o'clock?"
  Ferrar nodded, they said good night, and Ferrar returned to his office. His secretary, Jeannette, already had her coat on but she'd been waiting for him. "Monsieur Ferrar? A telephone call came in for you a few minutes ago, a Señor Molina, from the Spanish embassy. There's a note on your desk with the number."
  The embassy was a few minutes' walk from the law firm; Ferrar felt he could just manage the meeting and be at Coudert by ten. He left the office and headed toward the Sixth Arrondissement, thinking he might take the Métro or find a taxi, but he did neither. It was a fine cold night, swirls of powdery snow blew over the cobblestones, Parisians flowed past him in their winter coats and scarves, so Ferrar, in no hurry to reach his silent apartment, crossed the Seine on the Pont Neuf, then stopped at a café and had a coffee, in time reached the Place Saint-Sulpice, and, reluctantly, went home.
  Molina ordered coffee, which came with a basket of small brioches. The waiter placed the basket just to the right of Ferrar's hand; he could feel the warmth and the aroma was inspiring. Ferrar wanted one, but waited to see if his appetite survived what Molina was going to say. As the diplomat cleared his throat and polished his pince-nez, Ferrar looked around the room, which was almost deserted. There were two men with briefcases whispering at one table, perhaps Jews, Ferrar thought, of the hard-faced variety; and in the corner, a young, overdressed couple, maybe on honeymoon.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide three more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Romar led them south for a half hour, exhausted now, they moved slower and slower but did not stop. By eight in the morning Captain Romar's company had reached the town of Teruel and the Bank of Spain basement. From there he contacted battalion command by field telephone and reported the action. The soldiers took off the wounded man's shoe and bound his foot with strips of rags. That was all they could do.
  According to battalion command, the Moorish attack had been stopped. A counterattack was planned for noon. "We are down to twenty rounds a man," Romar told the officer on the other end of the field telephone. "You'll have to do the best you can" was the answer. "Until the supply trucks can reach us."
  De Lyon shrugged and said, "Well, in my time I have been mentioned in the newspapers. Not in the most flattering way, I regret to add."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last two paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: De Lyon looked at his watch. "Forgive me, but I'm a little pressed this evening." He reached for a briefcase at his feet, unbuckled the straps, and brought out a manila envelope. "A present for you," he said. Ferrar took the envelope, which was unexpectedly heavy and had a bulge at one end. When Ferrar started to unwind the string that held the flap down, de Lyon said, "Not in here. Later, when you're alone."
  De Lyon laughed. "Nooo, not me. I doubt very much you'll need it but, if you do, you'll be glad to have it."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: ". "Forgive me, but I'm a little pressed this evening." He reached for a briefcase at his feet, unbuckled the straps, and brought out a manila envelope. "A present for you," he said. Ferrar took the envelope, which was unexpectedly heavy and had a bulge at one end. When Ferrar started to unwind the string that held the flap down, de Lyon said, "Not in here. Later, when you're alone."
  De Lyon laughed. "Nooo, not me. I doubt very much you'll need it but, if you do, you'll be glad to have it.De Lyon looked at his watch.