He leaned his elbows on the window sill. In the distance, he could see the dark mass of a hill and, close up, the cottage in which Sezenac was lying. He recalled another night, a joyous Christmas Eve, when Sezenac was sprawled out on a rug in Paula's apartment. They had been laughing happily together, congratulating each other on the victory, shouting, 'Long live America!' with Preston and drinking to the Soviet Union. And Sezenac was a traitor, helpful America was preparing to subjugate Europe, and as for what was going on in Russia it was better not to look too closely. Emptied of the promises it had never held, the past was now nothing but a booby trap. The headlights of a car dug a wide, bright trench in the side of the black hill. For a long time, Henri remained motionless, watching those beams of light winding their way through the night. Sezenac was sleeping, and his crimes with him. Nadine was wandering about the countryside; he had no desire to have it out with her. He went to bed without waiting for her to return.