Chapter Sixty-Eight
Mazenc’s house was built in a southern style, narrow and high with balconies on each floor, squeezed between apartments and shops, and overlooking the river at the back. Mazenc welcomed them in a standoffish way but was clearly relieved that they had kept their promise. Almost at once he inquired about his brother. When he heard that his condition hadn’t changed, he looked at Denis as though the young psychiatrist were to blame for the fact that his brother remained in a deep coma.
“I can offer you ersatz coffee but no wine. Everything is rationed, even the chicory.”
“Chicory is fine,” Ferrand said. “We have to journey back to Bron as soon as we can. The military authorities have warned us that the only line leading out of the city is likely to be attacked any day no
