It took Sophie only a few hours to work out what makes the soldier tick. Now, she is simply honing her skills to match his interests, but she remains vigilant. He allows her to drag him to see “24 Heures de la vie d’une femme” and pretends to enjoy it. “In the novel it was different, there were only two generations of women,” Sophie explains, lighting a cigarette. “I haven’t read it, but I’m sure it’s pretty good.” “Yes,” Sophie says, “the book is pretty good.” * She has had to reconstruct a whole biography based on her new birth certificate: who her parents were, where she studied, it is a story she shrouds in mystery for fear of saying too much. The soldier is tactful. As a precaution, she encourages him to talk most of the time. In the evening, when she gets home, she makes notes, she has a jotter that contains everything she knows about him. There is nothing convoluted about his past. Nothing interesting, either. Born October 13, 1973 in Aubervilliers, just outside Paris.
