Lucas sits down opposite Yasmine.

"You haven't eaten."

"I'm not hungry. I'm still frozen."

Lucas takes a bottle of brandy from the shelf, pours out two glasses.

"Drink. It'll warm you up inside."

He drinks, and so does Yasmine. He pours again. They drink in silence. They hear the town bells ringing in the distance.

Lucas says, "It's midnight. A new year begins."

Yasmine lowers her head onto the table. She cries.

Lucas gets up, removes the blanket which is still wrapped round Yasmine. He strokes her long, shiny black hair. He strokes her breasts, which are swollen with milk. He unfastens her blouse, bends forward, and drinks her milk.

The next day Lucas goes into the kitchen. Yasmine is sitting on the bench with the baby on her knee.

She says, "I'd like to bathe my baby. After that I'll leave."

"Where would you go?"

"I don't know. I can't stay in this town after what has happened."

Lucas asks, "What has happened? Is it the child? There are other unmarried mothers in the town. Have your parents disowned you?"

"I haven't got any parents. My mother died giving birth to me. I lived with my father and with my aunt, my mother's sister. My aunt brought me up. When my father returned from the war he married her. But he didn't love her. He only loved me."

Lucas says, "I see."

"Yes. And when my aunt found out she denounced us. My father is in prison. I worked in the hospital as a cleaner until the birth. I left the hospital this morning. I knocked at the door of our house. My aunt wouldn't open it to me. She cursed me through the door."

Lucas says, "I know your story. I've heard the gossip in the bars."

"Yes, everyone talks about it. It's a small town. I can't stay here. I was going to drown the child, then go over the border."

"You can't cross the border. You'd step on a mine."

"I don't care if I die." "How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"You're too young to die. You could rebuild your life somewhere else. In another town, later, when your child has grown up. For now you can stay here as long as you want."

She says, "What about the people in town?"

"They'll stop gossiping. They'll shut up eventually. You don't have to face them. We're not in the town here. This is my home."

"You would keep me here with my child?"

"You can live in this room, you can use the kitchen, but you must never go into my room or up into the attic. You must never ask me any questions."

"I won't ask you any questions and I won't disturb you. I won't let the child disturb you either. I'll cook and clean up. I can do everything. At home I did the housework, because my aunt works in a factory."

Lucas says, "The water is boiling. You can prepare the bath."

Yasmine puts a basin on the table. She takes off the child's clothes and diaper. Lucas warms a bath towel over the stove. Yasmine washes the child. Lucas watches her.

He says, "He is deformed around the shoulders."

"Yes. His legs, too. They told me at the hospital. It's my fault. I wore a tight corset around my stomach to hide the pregnancy. He'll be crippled. If only I'd had the courage to drown him."

Lucas takes the bundle in his arms, looks at the little crumpled face.

"You shouldn't say things like that, Yasmine."

She says, "He will be unhappy."

"You are unhappy yourself, yet you are not crippled. He may not be any more unhappy than you, or anyone else."

Yasmine takes back the child, her eyes filling with tears.

"You are kind, Lucas."

"You know my name?"

"Everyone knows you in town. They say you're an idiot, but I don't believe that."

Lucas goes out. He comes back with some planks of wood.

"I'm going to build him a cradle."

Yasmine does the washing, prepares the meal. When the cradle is finished, they lay the child inside. They rock him.

Lucas asks, "What is he called? Have you given him a name yet?"

"Yes. At the hospital they needed one for the town hall records. I called him Mathias. It's my father's name. I couldn't think of another name."

"You loved him that much?"

"He was all I had."

That evening Lucas comes home from the priest's house without stopping at a bar. The fire is still alight in the stove. Through the open door Lucas hears Yasmine singing softly. He goes into Grandmother's room. Yasmine, in her chemise, is rocking the child near the window.

Lucas asks, "Why aren't you in bed yet?"

"I was waiting for you."

"You don't have to wait up for me. Usually I come home a lot later."

Yasmine smiles. "I know. You play in the bars."

Lucas approaches her. He asks, "Is he asleep?"

"For a long time. I just enjoy rocking him." ' Lucas says, "Come to the kitchen. We don't want to wake him."

They sit opposite each other in the kitchen, drinking brandy in silence. Later, Lucas asks, "When did it start? Between your father and you?"

"Right away. As soon as he came back."

"How old were you?"

"Twelve."

"Did he rape you?"

Yasmine laughs. "Oh no! He didn't rape me. He just lay down beside me, held me against him, kissed me, stroked me, cried."

"Where was your aunt all this time?"

"Working at the factory, on shift work. When she worked the night shift my father slept with me in my bed. It was a narrow bed in a tiny room without a window. We were happy, the two of us, in that bed."

Lucas pours some brandy. He says, "Go on."

"I grew up. My father touched my breasts. He said, 'Soon you'll be a woman, you'll go off with some boy.' I said, 'No, I'll never leave.' One night, in my sleep, I took his hand and placed it between my legs. I squeezed his fingers and felt that pleasure for the first time. The following evening it was I who asked him to give me that wonderfully sweet pleasure again. He cried, he said he musn't, that it was wrong, but I insisted, I pleaded. So he leaned over my sex, he licked it, he sucked it, he kissed it, and I felt an even more intense pleasure than the first time.

"One evening he lay on top of me, he put his sex between my thighs. He said, 'Close your legs, close them tight, don't let me enter, I don't want to hurt you.'

"For years we made love this way, but one night I couldn't resist anymore. My desire for him was too strong. I spread my legs, I was completely open, he entered me."

She stops talking. She looks at Lucas, her large dark eyes shining, her fleshy lips parted. She uncovers a breast and asks, "Do you want to?"

Lucas grabs her by the hair, drags her into the bedroom, throws her onto Grandmother's bed, and bites her neck as he takes her.

During the following days Lucas goes back to the bars. He starts walking again through the empty streets of the town.

When he gets home, he goes straight to his room.

One evening, however, coming home drunk, he opens the door of Grandmother's room. It is illuminated by the light from the kitchen. Yasmine is asleep, as is the child.

Lucas undresses and climbs into Yasmine's bed. Yasmine's body is burning, Lucas's is frozen. She is facing the wall. He presses against her back, puts his sex between Yasmine's thighs.

She closes her thighs, she moans.

"Father, oh father!"

Lucas whispers in her ear, "Tighter. Grip tighter."

She struggles, she has trouble breathing. He penetrates her. She screams.

Lucas puts his hand over Yasmine's mouth, pulls the pillow over her head. "Be quiet. You'll wake the baby!"

She bites his fingers, sucks his thumb.

When it's over, they lie there for a few minutes, then Lucas gets up.

Yasmine cries.

Lucas goes into his room.

It is summer. The child is everywhere. In Grandmother's room, in the kitchen, in the garden. He crawls around on all fours.