He took a mouthful of meaty salad and instantly remembered the sensation of really chewing something, when your teeth have to work to break down a piece of meat. He reacquainted himself with the distinctive way your jaw tightens when you bite into a substance that is just like your own mouth, flesh that is the same as your tongue, your gums, and your entire body. Closing his eyes, Franck gave himself up fully to this form of timeless savagery, as if he were reconnecting with the cycle of life, the food chain in which everything is food for something else. Right now, buried in the hills, he was directly involved in the cruelty that surrounded him; he was part of the same animal kingdom as the dog, the hawk circling in the sky, the deer hiding in the valleys and the chirruping cicadas. Eating the meat felt like a dizzying sacrilege.

‘So?’

Lise was looking at Franck as if he was a kid smoking his first cigarette. He was still for a moment, unable to reply, but as he prepared to swallow, his mouth turned to stone.

‘No …’ He spat out the soft, dense morsel that he had been compacting in his mouth. ‘I can’t do it!’

Lise laughed, buoyed up by a profound sense of relief. Franck put the bits of ham to one side and ate the pasta salad. Lise didn’t have much of an appetite because of the heat and only ate half a plateful. Then she went to get the peaches and the crate of little goat’s cheeses that Franck had bought, as he was fond of them. But, first, she wanted to splash some water on her face. It was so warm that even eating made you hot.