One of the great joys of French life is conversation. Here sit three students (the beardy guy in the middle is a mature student, 10 years older than the others) in the Parc Jourdan, Aix-en-Provence on a beautiful autumnal day, sun shining. A perfect occasion - perhaps THE most perfect occasion in their 3 lives - for talking. There is no competition between them. All is calm. They may be talking tosh, but it is interesting to them, important. The youth on the left is the brightest person either of the others have ever known - he himself has never met anybody who thinks so much or has half as much to say. He may hold forth for an hour before the other two chip in, but conversation is not just with words. The stretched-out girl listens, but is also thinking about what she really thinks and how the conversation might go if she said the things she is thinking. Later, she may say them, or meanwhile change her mind and say something quite different. It is said that Churchill, when in Cabinet, could begin talking about some minor matter, but his own words excited him so much that soon it was the most important issue in his life, a resignation matter. There is no such flight here. The conversation will be passionate, yet measured, vivacous but calm. In 80 years time, the survivors or survivor of this very human event may look back on this afternoon in Aix-en-Provence as one of the great memories of their life. Or it may be forgotten tomorrow, after another conversation half as interesting.

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