Up to the north there, monsieur, you can see the woods where the General used to take his longest walks. When he left Madame at home, he could cover a lot of ground in an afternoon. The Sûreté assigned two inspectors to him, although he didn't like it much. He was always polite to them—he was polite to nearly everybody—and of course he hadn't forgotten that mad colonel who'd ambushed his automobile on the way down here. But when he was out walking, he wanted those two gorillas to keep their distance. One of the villagers told me it was comical to see them puffing and scrambling to keep up with those long legs of his.

Ah, no, monsieur; no bother at all. So few people come nowadays; it's a pleasure for me to take you around. If you're not too cold, I'll show you the terrace while it's still light. And the Mayor tells me I can show you everything inside—or almost everything. With the journalists, right afterward, I had to be more careful: they kept poking their noses into personal matters—as though the great ones had no right to keep their doors shut once in a while like the rest of us.

I see by that green ribbon that you have the Croix de la Libération. That's unusual for foreigners. At Bir Hakeim? Well, I never! You must have been practically the only American there, monsieur. But just wait till we get to the study: I'll show you something that's bound to interest you.