Chapters (64)
- Cover
- Part I
- July 1914
- Spring 2017
- August 1914
- Spring 2017
- August 1914
- August 2017
- August 1914
- August 2017
- August 1914
- August 2017
- August 1914
- August 2017
- August 1914
- August 2017
- September 1914
- August 2017
- Part II
- September 1914
- August 2017
- September 1914
- August 2017
- September 1914
- August 2017
- September 1914
- August 2017
- October 1914
- August 2017
- October 1914
- August 2017
- October 1914
- August 2017
- October 1914
- August 2017
- October 1914
- August 2017
- May 1915
- August 2017
- May 1915
- August 2017
- May 1915
- August 2017
- Part III
- August 2017
- May 1915
- August 2017
- May 1915
- August 2017
- June 1915
- August 2017
- July 1915
- August 2017
- July 1915
- August 2017
- July 1915
- August 2017
- July 1915
- August 2017
- July 1915
- August 2017
- July 1915
- August 2017
- Epilogue
Even if you listened carefully, you could hear nothing but birdsong and the hum of insects. There was not the faintest noise of any car or neighbour, not even a dog barking in the distance, or the sound of a far-off road or a plane, and not the slightest trace of human activity. It was complete happiness for Lise; for Franck, total anxiety. Once inside the house it was worse. He was oppressed by the silence of the thick walls, and felt literally cut off from the world, a feeling exaggerated by the damp coolness that is the fate of houses that have been shut up for a long time. He might as well have been in an underground cave, or even lost in space. The silence was even more complete inside than out: here, the quiet was troubling. Franck suddenly felt ill at ease, or at least out of his comfort zone, while Lise opened the doors and windows wide, cheerfully bringing life back to the dull interior.
On looking around they saw that the fridge was new. It was the only part of the furnishings on the ground floor that suggested the house was supposed to be rented. Everything else looked ancient, dating probably from the 1950s. Although perfectly clean, the gas cooker, wood-burning stove and bathroom looked as if they came from a second-hand shop or a film. Franck was immediately reminded of the palpable sense of unreality you get on a film set. It was something about the delicate round handle and old-fashioned bolt on the door and especially the section of sky-blue tiles surrounding the sink, a basin carved out of a single piece of stone of a sort that had not been made for centuries. As a producer, he instantly had the same feeling of anachronism that you experience when you visit a set recreating a bygone era, whether the nineteenth century or the 1950s. If the set designer has achieved their effect, you find yourself truly transported in time. As they explored the house, everything that unsettled Franck left Lise spellbound. It all delighted her. She seemed happy; for her it had all the elements of the dream package: quiet, nature, isolation. It was a good thing they were far away from everything.