“Curaçao 1962? That sounds like an alcoholic drink.”

“No, no, it’s a chess tournament,” Marie cut in. “It was won by Petrosian, the master of impenetrable defence.”

“That’s exactly right,” I added, just for the sake of it. “But anyway, what snowmen are you talking about?”

Lucky Luke was floundering. He seemed to be asking himself whether it was really me sitting in front of him.

“Well, all right, here’s the thing; there are two snowmen in the playground – actually, I should say a snowman and a snow-woman.”

He pulled the curtain aside with a flourish. He was right. The original snowman was no longer alone and now sported a carrot in a place that left no doubt as to his gender. At the tip of the carrot, almost touching it, were the snow-woman’s buttocks.

“Hey, it’s not bad!” I said.

Lucky Luke let the curtain fall back.

“I’m sorry,” said Marie, “but I don’t see what it’s got to do with us.”

“It’s got something to do with you because we found these placards around the necks of the two … characters.”

And he took out two placards. Someone had written on them with a marker: VICTOR + MARIE.

All I could say was, “The scumbags!”

Marie burst out laughing.

“Victor, do you know who could have done this?” asked Lucky Luke.

I had a pretty good idea, but I chose to keep it to myself.

Marie couldn’t stop laughing. As soon as she calmed down a bit she started up again. She couldn’t help herself.

I was furious.

“Fine,” I said. “Now the whole school thinks we’re an item…”

“It’s just childish nonsense, Victor,” said Lucky Luke, kindly. “Don’t worry about it. But I promise that if we find the guilty party, he’ll be severely punished.”

“I should hope so. I’ve got my self-respect to think about. If we can’t count on the authorities in this school any more…”

Lucky Luke seemed amused. He showed us to the door as though we were important guests. Marie was in a hurry to get away, because she needed to prepare the visual aids for her presentation on the book about Helen Keller’s life, so I found myself alone with Lucky Luke.

“Really,” I said, “I don’t understand her. Anyone would think this business means nothing to her.”

“She lives in a different world… You know, she could have gone into the sixth form early, but she’s too young and they wouldn’t take her…”

“Why isn’t she in a special school for people who are geniuses like her?” I asked.

“I don’t know. We suggested it and her parents agreed, but she didn’t. She’s chosen instead to audition for a music school. It has a very good reputation – it’s highly selective.”

“How classy!”