Recently returned from viewing the new collection at the Printemps department store, his aunt was in splendid humour, but her mood soured irreparably upon coming into her salon to find her nephew, much like the previous day, and the day before that, prone on her sofa like a bundle of linen and moaning, a damp cloth wrapped around his head.

With a deep sigh, she let her displeasure be known.

‘Oh please, Aunt, need you shout? My head is giving me such grief that I’m at the point of wondering if some creature has not been hiding in my pillow and feeding on my brain during the night.’

She swept away his words with an exasperated gesture.

‘You have a letter from your father.’

‘Oh, will you not read it to me . . .’ said Auguste, in a feeble voice. ‘I can scarcely open my eyes.’

‘I have had more than enough of your using my apartment as some sort of health spa where there’s nothing to be done but sleep and have one’s linen laundered. Read the letter yourself!’ And she retrieved the envelope from the table and dropped it on his face.

Auguste waited until she had left the room before breaking its seal.

The news was not good.

The Jewish company on Place Sainte-Opportune that arranged military replacements, and which was supposedly bursting at the seams with men for sale, had proved a dead end: it had been plundered and had not a single man to offer, despite an advance payment of 1000 francs. In the end, Monsieur Levy had provided a refund, but the problem remained; agencies all across Paris were suffering similar shortages. So, they would have to make do without them. His father had then come up with the idea of sending a letter to all his suppliers enjoining them to enquire of innkeepers, coachmen, cobblers and priests – all those occupations who have constant dealings with others – in order to find out if they knew of any out-of-work labourers who would agree to sell themselves to the father of a well-to-do family. Unfortunately, nor had this course of action produced any result.

He had also written to a distant cousin down in the Basque country, but the law of primogeniture in that part of the world had had such a devastating effect that every available young man had left for America. Nor was there any joy to be had in agricultural regions such as Normandy, or the north of France, with the only available substitutes being acquired for outrageous sums by local landowners as replacements for their sons.