Every day that passes robs you of a weapon and adds one to my armoury. I’m young; I’m only sixteen, I’ll steal your lover from you and, sadly, it won’t take very long or need much cunning. It won’t be very difficult. And when I’ve made you really suffer, I’ll send him packing, because, to me, he’ll always be the Max I hated from my childhood, the enemy of that poor dead woman. Oh, how I will avenge her. But I still need to wait a while longer …’

She had vague memories of those childhood evenings: coming home from the park, dying of thirst as she walked beneath the shady lime trees, breathing in their perfume and dreaming of the cold milk that was waiting for her in a blue bowl; she remembered how she would half close her eyes to quench the thirst within her by imagining the sweet, cool liquid and the feeling of ice-cold milk flowing down her throat; how, once inside her room, she would hold the bowl in her hands for a long time, then bring it close to her face and moisten her lips with the milk before greedily drinking it down.

Suddenly the telephone rang. Hélène picked up the receiver; someone wanted to speak to Max. ‘It’s for you, Max,’ she said. ‘Some news from Constantinople. They’re calling from your house.’

Max grabbed the phone from her. She saw his face contort with pain. He listened for a moment without saying a word, then hung up and turned towards Bella. ‘Well,’ he said quietly, ‘you can be happy now. I’m all yours. I have nothing left, nothing apart from you. My mother has died. All alone, just as she predicted. Oh, I’ll be punished, terribly punished! That’s what it was, then, this weight that was suffocating me. She died in the hospital in Constantinople; strangers had to tell me she’d died. She was alone. But what about my sisters? What happened to them during that journey when I wasn’t at their side to protect them, to help them, while I was with you, with you and your family? I’ll never forgive you for this!’

‘But you’re mad!’ cried Bella in tears, leaning towards him, her face distorted as her make-up ran. ‘Is this my fault? Don’t be so cruel. Don’t push me away! You’re punishing me for your own mistakes. Is that fair? Yes, I wanted you to stay, to keep you with me. What woman would have done anything different? Is it my fault?’

‘Everything is your fault!’ he shouted, angrily pushing her away.

She clung on to his clothes.

‘Oh, enough, enough!’ he said with hatred. ‘We’re not in the fifth act of some melodrama. Let go of me.’

He opened the door.

‘You won’t leave me!’ Bella cried. ‘You have no right to leave me. Forgive me, Max, forgive me. Listen, I’m stronger than you think.