Behind him, the radio had started playing ‘Saravá’, a frenzied piece by Baden Powell. He recognised it straight away: it was a perfect match for the intensity and confusion of the jungle, for the danger always lurking in wild places, where nature is teeming with peril. Franck walked across the field towards the woods, wanting to know if the dog would continue chasing its prey further down the hill, if it would carry on running after its prize, or if the two of them had thrown themselves into the void … Maybe the dog was looking for a master – either way, he wanted to please Franck, showing an unrelenting willingness to sacrifice himself for him and obeying the orders that he only reluctantly gave. But, now, he had to stop the dog, he had to prevent him from killing the animal, and so Franck went further into the woods, leaving behind the deadly percussion and demonic rhythms of the music that was pulsing through the air. From afar, all he could hear was the distant drumming of the next piece. Perhaps the dog wanted to involve him in a sort of initiation, like the Masai ritual where each newcomer kills a lion with his bare hands and eats it to give him strength and courage and admit him into the world of ‘men’. Maybe the dog wanted to bring him the hare as an offering, delivering it in person for him to eat. He was horrified by the idea of Alpha coming back with a dead animal, a hare torn to shreds and dangling from his mouth. He was appalled just thinking about it. He would never be able to pick up the corpse of a bloody animal, still warm and damp from the slobber of its panting murderer, and besides, what would he do with the hare? He would put it straight in the bin, because spending a night thinking about the cadaver in the kitchen downstairs was unbearable. And yet that was what the dog was going to do, he could feel it. Alpha was going to bring him the rabbit, hoping he would skin it, cook it and eat it. Franck finally understood that that was how the game worked between them; the dog hunted so he could dedicate what he caught to Franck, out of respect.

When Lise got out of her third shower of the day, she saw Franck moving around right at the bottom of the field. He seemed to be looking intently at the undergrowth and calling ‘Alpha’. But the dog didn’t come. She was amused by the scene. Franck turned around and hurriedly came back up the field towards the house.

‘Something wrong?’

‘Yes, Lise, I think … Well, I think I’ve done something stupid.’

‘Oh? What have you done?’

Franck walked up to Lise and took her in his arms.

‘No, nothing. Nothing. Nothing.’