It’s all very new to Johanna, so she obviously finds these thousands of posters devouring the walls in the city and these people who’ve come from other places very exciting. Moreover, she’s particularly fascinated by the processions. She’s bowled over by the actors parading in the middle of the street, in full costume and yelling out lines, haranguing crowds sitting outside cafés. In her world everybody tries to hold on to their haughtiness, however pathetic. At school, naturally, but not only there. Her father would never agree to go to a fancy dress party, he’d feel totally humiliated. Seeing some people adopt grimaces, make-up and the game opens new horizons before her. She feels uncomfortable but her boundaries shift, and the sense of ridicule switches sides.

The girl smiles at her. “The direction was excellent. Did you enjoy it?”

Jo wonders if she’s from Paris. Her politeness is studied, over the top and a bit condescending. Enraptured like a nun in ecstasy but her every gesture abiding by a code of elegance that makes Jo feel ugly, poor and stupid.

“Yes.”

“And there’s such a perception, such an understanding of the script – I love this play. Bond is truly unique.”

Jo nods. She’d never heard of Bond until today. Her drama teacher at school vaguely tried to make them act out a few extracts from Molière. “Yes, it was great.”

She really thinks it. She also found it moving, even though she lacks the words to express it. She wishes she had them, right here and now, so she can respond to this incredible girl, not much older than her, who seems so sure of herself. Jo wants to hit her, become her best friend, or be her, it’s impossible to tell which. She picked this play because she liked the poster, because the tickets weren’t expensive – an advantage of the festival, the undercutting among companies competing for survival. Her phone rings. Saïd. The girl keeps staring at her, and doesn’t look like she wants to leave. She seems to find Jo’s company interesting. Jo moves away a little to answer Saïd. No, not yet, but yes, come and pick me up. What? Not now, but in a little while. I know you’re coming especially! In half an hour, by the ramparts at Porte Sainte-Catherine.