and she Oh you know I never pay any attention to uniforms

and I Good God

and she I’ve already met one this morning on my way to get the milk, he spoke French it must have been an officer because he was looking at a map sitting in a sidecar, he asked me if this was the road I told him Yes It was only afterwards that I thought he looked funny

then crossing the café again shaking Iglésia who was asleep his elbows spread out on the table his cheek on his arm saying Wake up Good God wake up we have got to get out of here Good God let’s get going

the woman still on the doorstep saying a moment later Here come some more

this time I was right behind her looking in the same direction in other words the direction opposite where the car had vanished so that the two cyclists looked as though they were chasing the car but they were wearing khaki

for a second I saw the soldiers of the two armies chasing each other round and round the block of houses like in the opera or those comic films people dashing in those parodic and burlesque chases the lover the husband brandishing a revolver the hotel chambermaid the adulterous wife the bellboy the little pastry cook the police then again the lover in pants and garters running his body straight up and down his elbows pressed to his sides raising his knees high the husband with the revolver the woman in panties black stockings and camisole and so on everything went round in the sunlight I didn’t see the step down to the pavement and almost landed head first I took a few strides my body almost horizontal at the limit of disequilibrium then I grabbed hold of his handlebars

the face of the man under the helmet fat red unshaven and streaming with sweat furious his eyes furious and wild his mouth furious shouting What is it what Get out of here let go, then I saw the truck a dispatch car vaguely camouflaged hastily daubed with yellow brown and green paint off balance leaning on one side as it took the turn then straightening I waved my arms standing in the middle of the road