She was married with three children who were now in the care of her sister. She herself had found a good job as wet-nurse to a French lady living in Marseille. The man was looking for employment. He too had been told he was sure to find some there since apparently there was a good deal of construction work on offer.

They then fell silent.

The heat beating down furiously on the carriage roofs was becoming unbearable. A cloud of dust raised by the train drifted in. The smell of the orange and lemon trees as well as of the roses became stronger, yet more pervasive and heavier. The two passengers fell asleep once more.

When they opened their eyes again it was simultaneously. The sun was sinking towards the sea and casting a brilliant sheen on its blue waters. The air freshened and became a touch lighter. Even with her bodice loosened, the wet-nurse was panting. Her cheeks looked flabby and her eyes lacklustre. She said in a weak voice: ‘I haven’t given the breast since yesterday. I feel so giddy with it. Almost faint.’

Not knowing what to say, he made no reply.

‘When a woman produces as much milk as I do she has to give the breast three times a day. If not it gets very painful. It’s like a weight pressing down on me. Stops me breathing. Does me in. That much milk’s a real problem.’

‘I’m sure,’ he said, ‘it must be a nuisance for you.’

She did look in a very bad way indeed, as if she might pass out any minute.

‘I’ve only got to press for the milk to come gushing out like a fountain. It’s amazing. Unbelievable. At Casale all the neighbours used to come and watch.’

‘Oh really?’ he said.

‘Yes really. I’d show you now only it wouldn’t be any help to me. Not enough comes out that way.’

She fell silent.

The train stopped at a little halt. Standing behind the barrier was a thin woman dressed in rags and carrying a crying baby in her arms. The wet-nurse looked at her sympathetically.

‘Now there’s a woman I could help. And that baby’d give me some relief, I can tell you! I’m not a rich woman else I wouldn’t be leaving my home like this, and my people and my darling little youngest to find work away, but I’d give five whole francs quick as a flash to have that kid for ten minutes and give it the breast. I’d be a new woman.’

Again she fell silent. Several times she raised her hot hand to wipe her forehead which was dripping with sweat. She groaned: ‘I can’t stand it any more. I’ll die in a minute.’