The dusty road, brightly lit up by the sun, had the blinding whiteness of snow.

The air was intensely warm, heavy and pungent.

Therese, on the arm of Camille, walked with short steps, concealing herself beneath her umbrella, while her husband fanned his face with an immense handkerchief.

Behind them came Laurent, who had the sun streaming fiercely on the back of his neck, without appearing to notice it.

He whistled and kicked the stones before him as he strolled along.