In spite of the stress and tension that had marked the previous few days, Daniel slept like a log. Laurent woke his pupil at seven-thirty with a shake. “Time to get up, my boy,” he said, in a gentle but imperative tone. “We’ve got a busy schedule ahead of us today.” He caressed Daniel’s forehead with the back of his hand and shuffled back to the kitchen. The coffee was ready and Laurent popped two slices of bread in the toaster. Daniel appeared five minutes later. The kitchen ceiling was low and he had to stoop to avoid bumping his head on one of the beams. He looked gaunt and tired in his pajamas. “Your eyedrops are next to your plate,” said Laurent as he filled a huge mug with coffee and a lot of hot milk. Daniel tucked in, stuffing his face like a ravenous wolf while Laurent nibbled guardedly on a piece of buttered toast. When the boy had had enough, Laurent cleared the table. Daniel got dressed in the bedroom and Laurent transformed the rectangular table into an altar complete with crucifix and candles.
