OH DEAR. IT’S so sad when communications break down between a mother and her daughter. Especially a pair as close as these two. Today Vianne was tired; I could see it in her face. I don’t think she slept very much last night. Too tired, in any case, to notice the growing resentment in her daughter’s eyes, or the way she turns to me for approval.

Still, Vianne’s loss can be my gain; and now I am on the scene, so to speak, I can make my influence felt in a hundred inconspicuous new ways. Let’s start with the skills that Vianne has so cleverly subverted: those wonderful weapons of will and desire—

So far I have still not found out what Anouk fears from using them. Something happened, certainly; something for which she feels responsible. But weapons are meant to be used, Nanou. For good or for ill. It’s your choice.

For the moment she still lacks confidence, but I have assured her that no possible harm can come of a little working or two. She may even use them on behalf of others – it rankles, of course, but we can cure her of selflessness later on – and by then, it won’t be a novelty, and we can work on essential things.

So what is it you want, Anouk?

What is it that you really want?

Well, of course, those things that every good child wants. To do well at school; to be popular; to gain petty revenge on her enemies. Those things are easily dealt with, and we can move on to working with people.

There’s Madame Luzeron, so like a sad old porcelain doll with her pale, powdered face and her precise, brittle movements. She needs to buy more chocolate; three rum truffles a week is hardly enough to justify our attention.

Then there’s Laurent, who comes every day and sits for hours over a single cup. He’s more of a nuisance than anything. His presence can discourage the rest – especially Richard and Mathurin, who would otherwise call round every day – and he steals the sugar lumps from the bowl, filling his pockets with the air of a man who means to get his money’s worth.

Then there’s Fat Nico. An excellent customer, buying up to six boxes a week. But Anouk worries about his health; has noticed him walking up the Butte and is alarmed at the effort it takes him even to climb a flight of steps. He shouldn’t be so fat, she says. Is there a way to help him too?