And that’s it. That’s the end of my story.”

“I’m warm already,” said Jack. “It’s a fine story and you tell it very well.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t know if my brother’s in St. Louis or somewhere else,” he said, “but if he’s at the South Pole I hope the penguins are encircling him and warming him.”

“I hope so, too,” she said. “Good night!”

“Good night!”

VI

A Discussion About Etienne Brûlé

It was windy and rainy — it was even dangerous to drive the old Volks on the 401 — and as they didn’t have the slightest desire to stay in a campground again, they decided to stop in Toronto and take a room at the YMCA.

The YMCA was located at 40 College Street. They had found the address in the literature from the Automobile Club, along with other information, in particular a reference that had caught Jack’s attention, because it said that the first white man to explore the region that is now the city of Toronto had been Etienne Brûlé, in 1615. Etienne Brûlé was one of his brother’s heroes.

La Grande Sauterelle said: “That doesn’t mean that Théo . . .”

“I know, I know,” he said.

When they were little, there was a big garden with trees, flowers, swings and a small gazebo beside the house; next to it was a wooden fence and a hedge of honeysuckle. The garden, along with the vacant lot to which you gained access through a wooden arch, was the setting for the endless battles waged every day after school that pitted the neighbourhood whites against the Indians.

THEY ENTERED THE YMCA and Jack asked for a room.

“Single or double?” asked the desk clerk.

He had spoken very fast, slurring the last word, and Jack thought the man wanted to know if he was single or married. The man had a bony face and a bald head, and he was wearing a white T-shirt and a plastic whistle hanging around his neck. He was looking suspiciously at the girl.

“Single,” Jack replied after a brief hesitation.

“You don’t seem sure.”

“No, I’m sure,” he said more firmly.

In the elevator, La Grande Sauterelle teased him. They had been given separate rooms, one on the second floor (reserved for female guests), the other on the fourth (the floor for male guests), rather than one room with twin beds on the third floor, where married people were put.

“Which floor?” she asked in English, pretending she didn’t know him.

“Fourth,” he replied, very vexed.

“I see,” she went on in English. “You’re single?”

He shrugged.

“You don’t like women?”

She pulled her dress midway up her thighs.

“Are you sure?”

The elevator stopped at the second floor and the door opened, but La Grande Sauterelle refused to get out.

“You missed your floor,” he said as the elevator started up again.

“I have a better idea,” she said.

At the fourth floor, she got out with him and followed him to his room, which was at the end of a long corridor; he walked very fast to avoid being seen in her company.