With Guillaume life carried on as usual. Only one thing had changed: she felt less desire for him. In every other respect, she loved him and was very happy with him, while Thomas was confined to what she thought of as daydreams. Deep down, however, she was certain she would run into Thomas again the following summer in Sorge, since he came there every year, and that certainty was a foundation. Guillaume suggested going away together the following August. Anna was okay with any other month of the year, but not August. “Well, that’s new,” he said, “you always used to say you liked getting away from Sorge in the summer.” “I did?” she said. “People change.” And she pretended to attach no importance to it all. She was busy with her articles, exhibitions she had to see. Whenever she went to Lille, Lyon, Geneva, Marseilles, she would regret it wasn’t Bordeaux. But even in Marseilles or Lausanne she hoped to run into Thomas in the street. After all, she thought, he can travel about, too. From this point on, then, the world was filled with his presence, since anywhere, at any moment, he might appear on a street (it was always a street) and walk toward her.