Franck went towards the water and dipped his feet in as a gesture of gratitude to the dog for leading him here. The water was freezing but it felt great; it came halfway up his calves, and the shock of the cold immediately tempered the heat that was making his veins bulge and his feet swell. There was a sort of stone basin at the back of the shelter, a reservoir with water gently lapping the edges. Franck perched on the side, and the simple act of sitting in the shade of the arch with his feet in the cool water felt just as good as diving into a swimming pool. He was enveloped in the humid air; rarely had he experienced such peace of mind. The dog was still drinking distractedly. From time to time it looked outside, as if afraid that somebody might disturb them, or perhaps it thought Lise was going to join them and was watching out for her. Franck closed his eyes. He was getting close to the state of bliss that Lise must feel when she meditated, sitting in her yoga position. Time stood still for him. Then a noise shattered the serenity – nothing more than the buzzing of a hornet that had followed them into the shelter and was filling it with the coarse sound of its wings. Franck didn’t like bugs. He was always scared of being stung; whether it was a wasp, a bee, or anything else, all flying insects made him panic. He was afraid he would swell up if he was stung, just like his brother had when they were children and they’d had to take him to hospital. He swatted the hornet with his hand, but it came back to circle above his head. It wouldn’t go away. The dog understood what was going on; ears pricked up, it followed the bug with its eyes, watching it spiral above.

Franck said playfully: ‘Go on, get it … Go, catch!’