Did you know that Marcel is back?’ she said, turning to Hélène. ‘He’ll find you’ve grown so much. Do you remember the day that he carried you on his back to climb the tower of Notre-Dame? You laughed and laughed … You don’t laugh very often any more, you poor little thing. Listen, I knew I shouldn’t get attached to you, I was warned about it. By whom? I forget. You should never get attached to other people’s children. I could have had a child of my own. He’d be your age now, I wanted to throw myself into the Seine. It was love, you see … but no, I’m old … You do understand that I have to go home, Hélène. I’m very tired … My sisters are waiting for me. I’ll see my little Marcel …’

She gave a mocking laugh that turned into a painful sigh. Then she said a few disjointed words, but she sounded calmer, more matter-of-fact. She had taken Hélène’s hand again and squeezed it tightly. Hélène followed her; all of this seemed so strange to her that she had the feeling of being in a deep trance. They crossed one of the bridges over the Neva decorated by leaping horses; their bronze backs were covered in fine, light snow. Hélène’s hand brushed against the statue’s pedestal as she walked by and the snow fell down on her, covering her coat; once again she heard the mad little laugh that ended in a sigh. The fog descended suddenly once more.

Mademoiselle Rose hurried on. ‘Keep up,’ she kept saying impatiently, ‘walk faster …’

The street was empty. A lone sailor emerged from the shadows at the corner of a grand building; he had a gold snuffbox in his hand that he pushed under Hélène’s nose; she could clearly see the dark stains of blackish blood he had neglected to wipe off, so they remained on the gold cover; the man seemed to have only half a body, to be floating in the fog that hid his legs and the top of his head; then a cloud of smoke rose between him and Hélène and he disappeared into the night.

‘Stop!’ Hélène cried in despair. ‘Let go of me. I want to go home!’

Mademoiselle Rose shuddered and lessened her grip. Hélène could hear her give a quiet sigh. When she next spoke her delirium seemed to have passed. ‘Don’t be afraid, Lili,’ she said softly. ‘We’re going home now. I haven’t been able to remember things for quite a while now. There was a light over there, at the end of the street that reminded me of the house. You wouldn’t understand … But now, alas, I remember that was all in the past. I wonder if it’s the sound of gunfire that’s doing this to me. You can hear it all night long outside our windows.