“I’m sorry. I was afraid for my daughter,” I said in English. It was too much of an effort to find the words in French.

“That was stupid,” he said.

“I know,” I said.

Meg looked at me, held my face, and stared at me like I was crazy.

“I’m okay,” I told her. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I saw him looking at Sarah.” I was pulled back to standing by a policeman. “I’m okay.”

Meg did not look like she believed me.

“Daddy?” Sarah said as I was pulled away a few steps.

The handcuffs were removed, and I stood there rubbing my wrists while they asked me questions. My mouth and throat were dry, scratchy. What was my name? What kind of name was that? Did I know the man with the gun? Had I ever seen the man before? Where was I from? Did I have military training? Did I have a history of mental illness? Why was I in the country? When would I be leaving?

Somewhat satisfied, they let me go.

Gabrielle d’Estrées and One of Her Sisters, 1594. Pinch, pinch. My daughter laughed, returned to it again and again, laughed at it again and again. Pinch, pinch.

The wisest know nothing.

Als sei kein Unglück die Nacht gescheh’n

The more I thought about what I had done in Paris, the more my action confused and upset me. To say that I hadn’t been thinking clearly was of course an understatement. It was more accurate to say that I had not thought at all, even with so much on my mind. But just what did that mean? To not think. I guess I was simply my animal self, not that an animal would have been so stupid. Something went through my mind, however rushed. Uncensored, certainly. Ill considered, obviously. My action at any other time might have caused major problems between Meg and me, but, given all else, the matter fell away.

Weeks passed. Christmas Day came and went. An annoyance, as always, but poignant this time, as the activity of counting Christmases occurred to me. The morning of gift opening was sweet enough, boring enough, sad enough. The same was true with the coming of the new year. And then the new semester began, distinctly marking time as they always did. Semesters came and went so quickly, so innocuously, that they felt like nothing until they were counted, and then the sum was decades. I never saw old coming.

Episodes of forgetfulness or spaciness were noted now and again. The seizures did not worsen; however, they occurred more frequently. We observed usually two a day, if in fact that was what they were. The fear of course was that there were others that we did not witness. For that reason, both consciously and un, we hardly ever left our daughter alone. This neither went unnoticed nor was it liked by the twelve-year-old. I imagined how I would have felt if my parents had loomed over me every second of every day, and so I managed to force myself to give her some space.