It is in a small hotel in a provincial sub-prefecture, with blue shutters and an interior courtyard where it is good to sit down over a drink that the narrator of this posthumous novel by Denis Tillinac puts down his bundle each weekend.
He is about to retire from the Quai d'Orsay.
He is single.
His parents, modest people of whom he was the only and faithful son, died;
since then, he has no other attachment than a mysterious woman, Marie-Anne, a character of Jane Austen misted in an impenetrable melancholy.
It is she that he joined in the Gers.
Around his house,
"at the top of a hill, open onto a park that slips gently towards a horizon of plowing"
, she gathered a bunch of friends, blended couples who left the city, hoping to find in the provinces something more pure and peaceful, a renewed vigor perhaps.
They are tired, these young retirees.
To read also:
Denis Tillinac, assumed character
Marie-Anne, he had met her in 1981. She was the daughter
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