Albert Uderzo went away, yielding to the only opponent against whom, unlike his characters, he could do nothing: age. He disappears, at a time when the world looks like what he and his friend - Goscinny, parent 1; Uderzo, parent 2 - had imagined on the scale of a village: a besieged citadel. Surrounded by the Roman invader, the last Gauls have resisted for sixty years now. From arguments to laughs and endless banquets, they held out. An unchanging chief, two musketeers - one small and thoughtful, the other "wrapped up" and go-getter - a joyful taste for fighting took their place of arguments. We must add to this magic potion which a Druid has the secret and which he distributes with a parsimony that suddenly jumps out at us.
Let us forget for a moment the benevolent recommendations which encourage us to read - re-read, say the most diplomatic - Proust, Seneca or Cato the Elder. Let's reopen - this time the term is adequate - the albums of Asterix.
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