They held each other tight, like two people reunited on a train platform after months of separation. Here in this primitive place, they were rediscovering the strength of their bond; they knew that they loved each other even though they didn’t say it any more, that they loved each other in such a way that they didn’t even need to tell each other or think about it. The final stage of harmony and bliss between two people is perhaps when love becomes so natural that it no longer needs to be spoken of out loud. Franck desperately held his wife against him, hugging the woman who had brought him all this way to lose himself in a lost world, a world that was simple and complete; to lose himself and then to find himself again. Maybe all you needed in life was a house surrounded by hills. As soon as you start expecting something else from life, you always want more, and it never ends. His sudden tenderness was as much out of gratitude as fear. He was afraid of finding some forbidden happiness, of falling for the illusion of going back to his roots where he was free from the rest of the world and its obligations, from his job, his partners, his bankers … It would be a truly cruel kind of happiness that made him believe he was free, just like that, able to leave behind the life he had made, suddenly released from every tie, and above it all.

The next piece on the radio was film music. A man was speaking in Catalan, but because of his poor microphone and the fact that his voice was breaking up, you couldn’t understand anything he was saying. The poor quality of the recording made it all harder. Then the voice got quieter and was replaced with another film score, from Sakamoto’s Merry Christmas, Mr Lawrence.

The sun had just gone down and daylight had almost completely disappeared. It was the time of day when you might think about switching on a light, but Franck and Lise didn’t move. He was still holding her in his arms, turning his back on the meadow with his eyes closed. It was Lise who saw Bambi come back into view in the distance, sturdy, strong Bambi coming back out of those deadly woods. She couldn’t decide whether he was more dog or wolf, but he jumped slowly and wearily over the last bushes, visibly worn out by his race through the brambles. Lise didn’t say anything, but watched the dog coming back up the meadow towards them, not running and in no hurry, with the sheepish air of someone who is not proud of themselves. Franck squeezed her tighter against him.

‘Lise, what’s in his mouth?’

‘What?’

‘The hare … did he get it …?’

‘Franck, what are you talking about?’