Chantier.

I said.  -  Well, that was daring. He looked at me, as he did, stunned, blue pale eyes, unrelentless. He did’nt answer; then he nodded. Then we went out. Gray day, empty, boulevard Saint-Jacques, walking very slowly, side by side. We stopped at a fence, and looked through. There was a hudge excavation behind, a building having been destroyed, in order to built another one. The process was in full swing. It was on the left when tumbling towards Denfert-Rochereau, before the crossing with rue de la Tombe-Issoire, almost across the bridge over métro Saint-Jacques, his rail. I said: «C’est insensé! » He replied: « Tous les chantiers sont insensés ».