5. Pyrenean Journal, Feb. 18th.

Marie is back at my kitchen table. She says she likes the coffee and the chat, for a change. We've talked of the emmerging wild daffodils and now she has veered back to the shootings. I'm waiting, holding my breath. "The German soldiers came knocking on the front door there, asking for the two lads. They fled by the back door, just there, where there used to be a corridor, into the alleyway, but soldiers were waiting for them there, too. Oh, they had some information, for sure". "Were they Maquis?" I can't resist asking. She shrugs and her mouth turns down. "Whatever,...they took them over to the Lavoir and shot 'em. And now what do they want to do, the old veteran's committee?" We wait and sip, and sip again. "They want to put up a memorial. Is it going to be straightforward?" We sip once more and wait again. Marie appears to be enjoying the silences. "No! We say around here that those who talk behind backs have several faces. Hmphhhhh! Well, there are multi faced people around here, I can tell you, because the next we hear, there's a disagreement, a debate, even. Somebody doesn't want that memorial. " Her head bends again and jerks in the vague direction of the square. " We'll see."
There are simmering feuds in these hamlets. Who knows when they originated. They are usually unmentioned but ever present, affecting everyone in insidious ways. I'm learning to pass the time of day with many in this small place and I've come to interpret a sudden averting of eyes, a refusal to say bonjour and a swift turn of the head as sure signs of these old wars.