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right shoulder. At times he buckled under her crushing weight, yet he ploughed on, swimming with superhuman strength. I had no doubts now; he was already a third of the way there. But then he banged straight into a wall that was hidden under the water. It was a horrible thump. They both disappeared. Then I saw him, alone; the rope must havesnapped. He dived down twice. He emerged at last, Véronique on his back. But without the rope she weighed him down more than ever. He was making progress all the same. I shuddered as they got nearer to the church. Suddenly – I wanted to scream – I saw beams, crashing down on their blindside. I watched open-mouthed. The water swallowed them up.
    I was in a daze from then on. I was nothing more than an animal, finding shelter out of pure instinct. The water advanced; I retreated. I heard someone laugh over and over, not knowing who. It was dawn. It was very fresh and very peaceful. It was like being at the edge of a pond, when the water comes alive before sunrise. But I could still hear laughing. I turned to see Marie, standing in her wet clothes. She was the one laughing.
    The poor sweet thing! How lovely she looked under the rising sun! I saw her crouch down to scoop some water into her palms and wash her face. She plaited her beautiful blonde hair. She seemed to think that she was in her bedroom, getting dressed to go to mass, the church bells ringing out merrily. She was still laughing, bright-eyed, her face full of joy. Her madness was infectious; I started to laugh too. Fear had turned her insane. It was a blessing – she was so happy to see this beautiful springlike morning.
    I didn’t understand what she was doing, so I let her go about her business, shaking my head tenderly. She was making herself beautiful for all eternity. When she felt that she was ready, she sang a hymn. Her voice was as delicate as cut glass. But she broke off, as if to answer someone who was calling her, someone who only she could hear.
    ‘I’m coming! I’m coming!’
    She started to sing again, climbing down the roof and slipping into the water. It covered her gently, without a ripple.I was still smiling, looking on contentedly at the spot where she had just disappeared.
    I remember nothing after that. I was alone on the roof. The water had risen further. There was still a chimney standing; I must have clung to it with all the strength I had left, like an animal that doesn’t want to die. Then – nothing, nothing, just a black hole. Nothingness.

6
    Why am I still here? They told me that people from Saintin came in boats around six, and that they found me lying on a chimney, passed out. The flood was cruel. It took away everyone I loved; why not take me too? I wouldn’t have felt a thing.
    I survived. All the others are gone – the children in their swaddling clothes, the girls who would have got married, the young couples, the old couples. And then me: a stubborn weed rooted right down between the stones, shrivelled and stringy – but alive! I’d do what Pierre did if I had the guts. ‘I’ve had enough. Goodnight!’ Chuck myself into the Garonne and join the others. I have no children left. My house is destroyed, and my land is ruined. How happy I was, when we sat down to eat, the old ones in the middle, the children eldest to youngest! How happy I was reaping the harvest, all of us at work together, picking the grapes, coming home proud of our riches! Our beautiful children and our beautiful vines, our beautiful girls and our beautiful crops: all my joy, the living reward for a life’s work! With all that gone, God, why keep me alive?
    There’s no consolation. I won’t take accept. I’ll give my fields to the neighbours whose children aren’t dead. They’llhave the energy to clear up the mess and replant the crops. When you don’t have children, all you need is somewhere to die.
    There was only one thing I wanted. A final wish. I wanted to find their bodies and bury them in our plot,