She laughed, sat back in the little chair, relaxed, smoothed her skirt, shook her head as if awakening, nodded. ‘I suppose so. That’s what I mean. James had a hatred of anything legal, of being tied down, as he called it, of not being “a free spirit”, left to do as he wished and not be forced by a set of man-made rules. At that time I didn’t care – I was a free spirit myself, at least in my mind – but I was trapped by the triviality and monotony of my life, perfectly pleasant, comfortable, but, oh God!, so dull. So I agreed with him, agreed with everything that he suggested. I was so certain, after a little time, that he was mine for always, that nothing could ever change. How mad women are! I had not the least hesitation in accepting to live with him as man and wife with a ring, which we bought in Sainte-Brigitte, pushed on to my finger under a great pine tree by the sea, our wrists cut, just a little, little bit, so that our blood could mingle, a certain sign, to us, then anyway, that we were betrothed for ever. The ring,’ she said wryly, ‘was the only “legal” symbol we allowed, to reassure the village people here and, of course, my horrified mother, who would have, even though she liked James, made every effort to prevent a “real” marriage between us. He a foreigner, a Protestant, I the only help she had, and the only comfort since my brother had been killed. We returned as a fait accompli. There was not much that she could do about anything. And so I was free, and as you know he rented this little house, and we moved in together. With a cheap ring from Sainte-Brigitte on my finger. I beg you in all humility to forgive my deceit.’

‘Of course I forgive you. There is nothing to forgive.’

‘Lies need forgiving. One is always found out anyway.’ She picked up a piece of stick from the ragged grass and threw it in a curving arc against the blue sky. ‘And I was punished, you see.’

‘What was that punishment? He writes about it in the letter to you? What does he mean by that?’

She got up quickly, started to walk down the path away from me towards the remains of the vegetable garden, and the tall clump of dried sunflowers. I followed at a careful distance, not wishing to crowd her, not wishing to make her feel that I was pursuing her.

‘One is always punished for too much happiness,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘We were so radiantly happy, two idiotic children who had never really been happy before suddenly finding such joy that we – what is the word? – we were satiated with laughter, pleasure and delight of each other.’