The woman was not won over but was tempted by the offer, though she did her best to hide any satisfaction she might have felt. Her bad mood quickly returned, and she told them to come back tomorrow as the beans were yet to be picked. Lise, with an eagerness that was remarkable in the circumstances, asked if she had eggs by any chance. The farmer stared at the Parisian the way you might weigh up an enemy, as if asking, ‘Who the hell are you?’

‘We’ll see tomorrow. I’ll save you some, I promise.’

Franck didn’t know what to say or do to make his exit. He watched Lise approach the woman to shake her hand. He admired Lise’s natural warmth and profound empathy. Although he didn’t really know what had kept their relationship going for the more than twenty years they had lived together, what was certain was that he envied her way of always seeing things in the best light and finding the good in the most dislikeable people. She would have found some humanity in even a murderer or a monster.

The Audi again threw up a thick dust as they left the yard. Franck surreptitiously examined the kennel. He could see it now in the rear-view mirror; it went back a long way, as if it were the opening of a passage to hell from where enormous animals emerged, huge dogs with rabid bites.

August 1914

August 1914

At all significant moments in history there are freethinkers prepared to swim against the tide. The lion tamer was one of them. Wolfgang Hollzenmaier. That was the name written in gold lettering on the circus wagons. Years before the church bells had rung out, he had taken the decision to stay silent. Other than his interior monologue, he would speak only to give orders to his lions and tigers. He had worked with them for the past fifteen years in the biggest and best circuses in Europe and directed them with peremptory commands in German. Even though he was a performer, a lion tamer and German, the mobilisation applied to him too.

In the preceding few years, travelling shows had reached a peak of popularity. Circuses brought joy almost everywhere they set up their big tops, whether on the outskirts of a city or in a remote market town in the country. But the moment war broke out, travelling troupes were forced to disperse and cease performing, becoming bankrupt overnight. The artists and handlers mostly found themselves conscripted, like other civilians, and so did the clowns, jugglers and acrobats, who were pressed into service in the infantry.