Three Sisters

By Simone Malacrida

In a quiet country village near Reims, the lives of four young friends, Julien, Charles, Philippe, and Louis are about to change profoundly.
The world they had known since their childhood is about to be overwhelmed.
Their stories will be intertwined with the course of History between the 1920s and World War II, and with the bursting development of science and technology through the discoveries of physics and mathematics.
Hand in hand, the Lagardère sisters will mark their existences, imprinting a decisive turning point on each of them.
Love and affection, unexpected mourning and sudden joys alternate in an eternal blending of events.
The unchanging rural landscape of Champagne serves as a backdrop to the struggle between freedom and dictatorship, pitting the ideals of democracy against the fanaticisms of totalitarianism.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookRix
• Release date: Apr 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9783755439257

Simone Malacrida

Simone Malacrida (1977) Ha lavorato nel settore della ricerca (ottica e nanotecnologie) e, in seguito, in quello industriale-impiantistico, in particolare nel Power, nell'Oil&Gas e nelle infrastrutture. E' interessato a problematiche finanziarie ed energetiche. Ha pubblicato un primo ciclo di 21 libri principali (10 divulgativi e didattici e 11 romanzi) + 91 manuali didattici derivati. Un secondo ciclo, sempre di 21 libri, è in corso di elaborazione e sviluppo.

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Table of Contents

Table of Contents

SIMONE MALACRIDA

Three Sisters

INDICE ANALITICO

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VIII

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SIMONE MALACRIDA

SIMONE MALACRIDA

Three Sisters

Three Sisters

Simone Malacrida (1977)

Engineer and writer, has worked on research, finance, energy policy and industrial plants.

INDICE ANALITICO

INDICE ANALITICO

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

XXI

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

In the book there are very specific historical references to facts, events and people. These events and characters really happened and existed.

On the other hand, the main protagonists are the result of the author's pure imagination and do not correspond to real individuals, just as their actions did not actually happen. It goes without saying that, for these characters, any reference to people or things is purely coincidental.

In a quiet country village near Reims, the lives of four young friends, Julien, Charles, Philippe, and Louis are about to change profoundly.

The world they had known since their childhood is about to be overwhelmed.

Their stories will be intertwined with the course of History between the 1920s and World War II, and with the bursting development of science and technology through the discoveries of physics and mathematics.

Hand in hand, the Lagardère sisters will mark their existences, imprinting a decisive turning point on each of them.

Love and affection, unexpected mourning and sudden joys alternate in an eternal blending of events.

The unchanging rural landscape of Champagne serves as a backdrop to the struggle between freedom and dictatorship, pitting the ideals of democracy against the fanaticisms of totalitarianism.

"Not I from Olympus or from Cocytus the deaf

regi, or the unworthy earth,

and not the dying night call;

not you, last ray of the dark night,

conscious future age. Disdainful sink

appease sobs, decorate words and gifts

of coward caterva? Worse

times are rushing; and it doesn't trust

to putrid grandchildren

the honor of egregious minds and the supreme

of poor vengeance. Around me

the feathers the brown greedy nozzle rotates;

press the beast, and the nimbus

treat the unknown remains;

aura welcomes the name and memory ."

––––––––

Giacomo Leopardi Brutus Minor

I

I

Avize, May 1933

––––––––

There is little to celebrate. Did you hear the proclamations of that madman?

Do you mean Adolf Hitler?

Of course, what political topic have we been talking about for months, if not years? I really don't know how my second home could freely choose those fanatics.

Julien De Mauriac finished sipping the champagne he had poured into the goblet.

If you don't know that you're half a Kraut...

Charles Droin was his best friend. They had grown up together in Avize, a small rural town only twenty kilometers away from Reims.

Precisely for this reason, he was the only one who could joke about such intimate facts of Julien's life.

"Will you two stop it? We are here to celebrate the 27th birthday of our friend Julien, as well as the landlord of this magnificent residence in the middle of the vineyards.

Residence of twenty-four rooms..."

Twenty-five locals, Philippe.

Yes thank you, Louis, twenty-five local. You are really your father's son, precise as a pharmacist!

Listen to the cabinetmaker ... let's hope he doesn't give us another lesson on marquetry.

Philippe Morel and Louis Avart completed the quartet gathered in the blue room, the most magnificent room in the official residence of the Mauriac.

Three years younger than Julien, they were respectively the son of the most sought-after cabinetmaker in the region and the son of the pharmacist in and around Avize.

Charles shared their petty bourgeois background as the son of a merchant who had made his fortune in Reims after the end of the Great War.

Conversely, Julien belonged to a very high class.

His father, Louis De Mauriac, had inherited the family's land properties and had refined the production of champagne.

His were the innovations that had allowed the Mauriac wine to climb the main classifications in the enological field.

The organoleptic properties of the champagne produced by the Mauriac had improved during the first decade of the twentieth century, becoming synonymous with absolute quality.

The limited production of those bottles, vintaged year after year, had led prices to skyrocket, making the family remarkably wealthy, especially before the Great War and in the fabulous 1920s.

The census was not the only difference between them.

Julien's mother boasted a respectable noble title.

Countess Ilda Von Trakl had always been recognized as a refined, elegant and highly cultured woman.

It was she who stimulated Julien's enormous gifts and passions and, before that, the Mauriac residence had been embellished thanks to her aesthetic taste.

A perfect embodiment of the decadent spirit of the late 19th century, this is how Louis De Mauriac used to describe his wife.

Ilda Von Trakl was German by birth and fully reflected the aesthetic ideal present in the books of Goethe and Mann. The sublime encounter between beauty and culture, health and honesty.

Standing up, from his height of one meter ninety, Philippe Morel proposed a toast:

To our friend Julien and to the wish that, starting today, May 5, 1933, he will settle his mind by finding a young girl...

The others smiled, thinking among themselves that none of the four had yet discovered what their respective parents defined with a dry term: settling down.

In the meantime, we thank him for this bottle.

Philippe read the champagne label:

Mauriac Pas Dosé vintage from 1924 and disgorged in 1929. Not bad I would say...

Charles interrupted him:

Which can certainly be counted among the best grand cru champagnes .

And not only that, Louis added, also blanc de blancs .

Julien smiled.

Several times he had escorted his friends to the cellars where he kept the reserve of champagne and several times he had explained to them all the operations, from the cultivation of the vineyard to the manual harvest, from the blending of the grapes to the aging process, going into the details of the caps, the seal, the glass of the bottles, the light and the ideal climatic conditions.

His father's teachings resonated with him every day.

He inherited from his mother a strong inclination towards perfectionism.

That makes you a bit Kraut..., Philippe used to tease him.

While from his father he had learned that entrepreneurial spirit that had manifested itself from an early childhood, as well as knowledge about the production and tasting of champagne.

Are you sure you're not Jewish? My father says they are the best traders in the world, had been Charles' observation over the previous years, when Julien had demonstrated an unrivaled economic flair.

They all stood up.

Philippe stood tall, while Louis, the shortest of the four, stood to one side.

His powerful physique, with broad shoulders and legs the size of logs, clashed with the profession of pharmacist, all intent on being precise with the measuring cup.

Charles and Julien were of medium height and very similar in build.

It couldn't tell they were fatty, but they weren't too dry either.

The only difference between them was their features.

Charles denoted typically Mediterranean traits. His dark hair, black eyes and olive complexion made him completely different from Julien who, with his blond hair and blue eyes, had assimilated maternal characteristics.

Thank you my friends. Thanks for being here this day. I'm the greatest of you...

Old now Philippe whispered grinning, the youngest of them all.

"...and as such I should act as a guide. But I tell you that without each of you, I would not be myself.

Without my literary, musical and political talks with Charles I wouldn't be me, even if we eliminated our heated debates."

Yeah...we don't always think alike, Charles pointed out.

Without the confrontation with Philippe on a scientific level I would not feel like myself...

Yes, but now I can't argue anything anymore. How can I stand up to a Mathematics and Physics graduate from the Sorbonne who has known an innumerable amount of scientists?

Philippe had felt called into question.

"And finally, without Louis and our exchange of philosophical views and the meaning of life, I could not fully be Julien De Mauriac.

Thank you because, since I don't have brothers or sisters, you are my family. A family that I have chosen and that has not been imposed on me by genetics.

This makes it even more important."

Julien raised his glass of champagne and invited his friends to drink.

The perlage of the wine went up the esophagus and throat, releasing those mysterious and velvety scents that the abbot Dom Pérignon was the first to intuit.

They set down their cups and embraced.

In Julien's memory, that was one of the happiest days of his life.

So you don't think you'll go into science?

Philippe was the first to interrupt that moment.

Having to be very thoughtful and patient in his daily work as a cabinetmaker, he vented his youthful vehemence outside that environment.

He had always been eager for scientific knowledge.

According to Philippe, the entire universe could have been explained with a single physical theory which, in turn, would have been based on precise mathematical foundations.

Louis, despite being a pharmacist and therefore familiar with the chemical properties and effects of certain excipients, greatly contrasted those ideas.

We are not just an aggregate of atoms, he used to say.

Julien swayed between the positions of his two friends.

He recognized the central importance of science, otherwise he would not have chosen that course of study.

On the other hand, he had understood how modern physical theories confronted man with purely philosophical and religious questions.

Quantum mechanics, a great theory elaborated in the first three decades of the twentieth century, was colliding with the problems of the infinitely small, in particular with what was in the most recondite part of matter: the atomic nucleus.

Conversely, Einstein's general relativity projected man to ask questions about the Cosmos and infinity.

Julien had already informed Philippe of his intentions, as early as 1929, but his friend tried every time to encourage him to continue.

You have a natural talent for science. There is so much to discover. I'm sure that, if you put yourself into it, you could win the Nobel, like and better than De Broglie.

Louis De Broglie, the French scientist and academic, had been one of Julien's teachers during his university studies.

"No Philippe, science is wonderful and you know how much I love it, but I feel led to something else. By frequenting those environments I realized that I don't have the dedication and perseverance of a true physicist.

I am an eclectic spirit, who likes to wander through the meanders of all human knowledge.

I am interested in philosophy and music, economics and other cultures. I love to travel, but also to stay here in Avize to perfect my family's champagne.

Science, the contemporary one, requires total devotion and fidelity. There is no more room for the scholars of the past, now the great moment of specialization has arrived."

Charles sat down and lit a cigar.

That's best if you smoked it after an Armagnac, Julien pointed out.

You see, dear friend, the difference is that I don't have refined tastes like yours. We should all come to class in this hall. You know how much I like it.

Charles had always been drawn to the elegance of that salon.

The central chandelier, in blue crystal, radiated a different light according to the seasons, days and times.

The sun's rays, penetrating from various angles and with different intensities, created an infinite play of reflections which bounced off the two mirrors placed on the side walls and illuminated the plaster, also blue, of the ceiling and walls.

Myriads of small lapis lazuli inlays decorated the finishes of the jambs and the majolica stove.

The writing desk, placed to one side, was upholstered in blue satin velvet, the same material that was used for the upholstery of the chairs and armchairs.

In the center of the room, just under the chandelier, there was a circular table, from which one could admire the spectacle of colours.

Charles turned to Philippe:

Let me tell you what this madman is doing...

He was the only one who knew about Julien's latest creation.

He pointed to the piano, placed in the extreme corner of that room.

"He's composing music that incorporates scientific theories. He's using a series of numbers to cadence the notes and is inspired by Joyce's Ulysses to mark the rests.

He has also added variations that recall the anticipations of the seven books of Proust 's Recherche .

A normal human being would never have thought such a thing, but this is Julien De Mauriac!"

Philippe looked at Julien, as if to question him.

Okay, as soon as it's ready I'll let you hear it. Agree?

The three friends stared at each other satisfied.

Unless that Hitler first declares war on us, added Julien.

But with what weapons?

And with what money?

And how will the Maginot Line we are building go through?

The three friends agreed and were unanimous.

Germany had no arms following the Versailles treaties of 1919.

No army or soldiers.

It was also burdened by an unprecedented debt and inflationary crisis.

Julien, despite having understood the economic foundations at the base of capitalism and having seen firsthand the dramatic consequences of the Great Depression in the United States, could not understand how that industrial and productive colossus could have sunk so low.

The American crisis of 1929 also had repercussions in Europe, but in Germany it assumed an abnormal proportion.

France's problems, such as rising unemployment and wage erosion due to inflation, were insignificant compared to those of its neighboring nation.

This was known to all, moreover it seemed that the National Socialist Party had, in some way, targeted, during the previous electoral campaigns, precisely that finance which was the basis of capitalism, largely led by bankers of Jewish origin.

However, there was one thing that Julien did not take lightly, as his friends and the majority of French public opinion seemed to do.

The danger did not come from a contagion of nationalist ideas perpetrated in Germany and Italy.

democracy was not at risk and, even less, were the founding concepts of the Republic. Freedom, equality and fraternity were still the basis of daily life.

The danger came from Germany itself, or rather from the Germans.

Julien knew very well the stubbornness, the obstinate will and the determination of that people.

He knew they felt defrauded and humiliated.

And he was aware of their nature, inclined to follow orders and organization.

Within a few months of taking power, Hitler had already succeeded in outlawing the majority of parties and concentrating an inordinate amount of power on himself and on the Nazi Party.

Now they have their strongman in charge and they will follow him to the ends of the earth.

This was Julien's idea.

How long it had taken Germany to wake up was a mystery, but the young De Mauriac was certain.

As soon as it had the chance, the Reich would start another war.

He said nothing to his friends, not even to Charles.

He didn't want to scare them with shadows about the future, especially since the time had come for each of them to think about tomorrow.

Let's go see the fireball.

Louis was greatly fascinated by Julien's car.

In Avize you didn't see many cars, while in Reims it was easier to meet these modern means of transport.

The majority of car owners owned national brands, among which the Renault and Citroen products stood out, in eternal competition with each other.

Very few drove foreign cars, mostly Mercedes Benz and Ford.

Nobody in the region, except Julien De Mauriac, owned a Rolls-Royce.

The fireball, as Louis called it, was a black and white Phantom II sports version.

The elegance of the line did not affect the performance in terms of power.

One hundred and eight horses for a cylinder capacity of almost eight thousand cubic centimetres.

Louis was always amazed when Julien opened the hood where the engine was housed.

Six cylinders in line with overhead valves, all in a single block and with an aluminum head. A marvel of technology.

Philippe and Charles, although their respective families owned a car, weren't so fanatical about the world of motors.

They made fun of Julien for his lack of nationalism:

In short, not even French cars can you appreciate!

Louis flew into a rage:

You two don't understand anything. Rolls is the best there is. I don't know how the British came up with something so grand.

This kind of joke also continued on the sports ground.

Like all young people of the 1920s, the four friends had two totally pre-eminent sporting passions.

Football and cycling.

France did not shine in the game of football. The British, who boasted of having invented it, were certainly stronger.

"But the best national team is Italy, at least at European level. I saw them play when I went to that country, they are phenomenal. They have managed to integrate the so-called natives, South Americans of clear Italian origin.

They have three absolute champions like Piola, Meazza and goalkeeper Combi. A fantastic coach like Pozzo and most of them play together during the year."

Louis, who with his power was the most gifted to play football, didn't look kindly on this idolatry towards Italy.

Yes we know Julien. This team is called Juventus and is owned by the Agnelli family, the car manufacturers of FIAT. You told us dozens of times.

Philippe and Charles agreed with him, but for political reasons.

Everyone hated fascism and Mussolini's dictatorial regime.

Think we created it, Julien used to remember.

We who?

"We French. We were the ones who gave Mussolini the money to leave the Socialist Party and side with the interventionists.

The Great War had broken out and we needed Italy to open the front with the Austro-Hungarian Empire, in order to remove the divisions arrayed against us in the west. So we approached the most upstart and corruptible socialist leader. And now, here are the results."

When Julien noted down these details, the others could only agree with him on the lack of transparency of political games.

Instead, what united everyone was the passion for cycling and for French champions such as Léducq and Magne.

There had been Belgian and Italian champions who won the Tour de France, such as Thys , Lambot and Bottecchia and others who had given them a hard time like Guerra.

As was normal in those years, the majority of trips were made by bicycle and the four friends hadn't lost the habit of roaming freely up to Reims, launching sprints and sprints and simulating the deeds of these champions.

Julien, your passion for English cars and Italian football is fine. You pass your half-German origin, but when you get on your bike and drink champagne, you're really French!

The production of the Mauriac was the pride of Avize.

In this way, the small village could compete with very inconvenient neighbours, such as Reims and Epernay, where the most prestigious brands of the precious alcoholic beverage resided.

In addition, the Mauriac had never succumbed to fashion trends which, based on seasonal tastes, mixed champagne with spices, aromas, liqueurs and so on.

Purity is true virtue.

In Julien, these words of his father resounded like sentences.

The four friends, after seeing the Phantom, headed by bicycle towards the vineyards, the true wealth of the Mauriac.

They stayed on the beaten road at the top of the hill, keeping to the right the slight slope where the vineyard was beginning to swell its bunches.

So you left Paris and the science labs to come back here.

Philippe had pinned this idea.

And he did well, Louis always stressed.

Where is peace of mind if not in this landscape?

The four friends lay down on the ground, with their eyes turned towards the sky.

The spring air spread everywhere bringing delicate and sweet scents.

The smell of the forest, of the ancient trees, of blackberries and currants, of flowers and honey. These were the scents which, instilled in millionth parts, were exalted only with fermentation in the bottle.

It was as if the champagne carried the imprint of the air.

Indeed, during the Great War, the great use of chemical gases had compromised the quality of those vintages.

Julien knew of no other place so suited to his character, if not Avize.

And to say that, compared to the average, he had traveled a lot.

Not only had he lived in Paris for four years and visited Brittany, Normandy, Gascony, Picardy and Provence, but he had traveled abroad several times.

He had undertaken a journey to Italy between 1920 and 1921, stopping off in the main places of that country.

Turin, Milan, Venice, Florence, Rome and Naples.

A journey to discover that culture that had fascinated him.

Of the Latin he had learned as an autodidact and of Dante's homeland.

He had returned there after his graduation, at the end of 1928, and found the country considerably changed.

The fascist dictatorship had given a very dark character to the normal Italian joy. They wanted to exalt a glorious past, but only to highlight the Duce whom Julien considered a nonentity.

Now, faced with the advent of Hitler, he trembled for Germany.

Already there were hints of something more violent.

Thousands of Jews had fled, even Einstein had gone.

From his mother's homeland, he knew Stuttgart, Munich and Berlin.

He knew he had distant cousins, but had never met them.

In general, he respected the Germans for the enormous cultural contribution they had made to Europe.

Were not the greatest philosophers of the modern era German? From Kant to Fichte, from Leibnitz to Feuerbach, from Hegel to Marx, from Schopenhauer to Nietzsche, it seemed that the dialectic was inherent in being German.

And what about the music?

Bach, Beethoven and Wagner. Three absolute idols.

And the literature? With Goethe, Schiller and Mann he had reached unparalleled heights.

Precisely for this reason, he did not understand how they could have given in to instincts, giving that flood of votes to the Nazi Party.

He had had the feeling of growing verbal violence during the 1920s and, therefore, had never traveled to that country again.

Conversely, he hugely admired the United States of America.

Although he had seen that continent shortly before its greatest economic crisis, Julien was convinced that the future would belong to that nation.

Immense spaces, almost unlimited agricultural and mineral resources, great industrial potential, distance from the main conflicts made the United States the ideal candidate for the role of world superpower.

Their entry into the final part of the Great War had been decisive, far more than English and French propaganda had made it clear.

Julien had not been fascinated by the Soviet Union and the wave of communism that had swept Europe in the early 1920s.

Although he shared most of the programs of the social democrats and although he was in agreement with the Marxist analysis of the distortions of capital, he could not understand the so-called dictatorship of the proletarian.

In the opinion of the young Mauriac, the lack of democracy had proved completely ineffective in solving the problems of the proletariat, giving way only to an immeasurable personal power.

Louis's family had always had sympathies for the communists, but these had weakened after the French left-wing parties, mainly the socialists and social democrats, denounced the conditions of absolute lack of freedom in the Stalinist Soviet Union.

For this reason, Julien was not attracted to the idea of visiting Eastern European countries.

He hadn't gone beyond Berlin and Vienna.

In any case, after all the previous wanderings, after immersing himself in ancient and modern cultures, after studying Italian, English, German and Spanish language and literature, the young Mauriac had felt the powerful call of his land.

He fondly remembered his childhood, spent running on the lawns and establishing those friendships that had still remained unbreakable.

That light-heartedness of his first eight years would never return, not only for the end of that magical period, but for the outbreak of that war which should have lasted only a few months, while instead it shocked the entire continent, if not the whole world. .

World War, they had called it. With all capital letters.

The early twentieth century was an exact continuation of the previous century.

Julien later realized that the new Century had been inaugurated in the trenches, only a few kilometers away from Avize.

In those years, life became gloomy and little Mauriac spent more time at home, dedicating himself to his studies and highlighting his enormous talents.

His mother urged him to play the piano to drown out the noise of war.

His father, incredulous of the continental slaughter, followed him step by step in his progress.

The 1920s were not a rehash of what came before.

By now that aristocratic society had been swept away by millions of dead and the Bolshevik revolution.

Thus, clinging to his memories, Julien had decided to return to his native village, among its vineyards and its champagne.

He had never regretted that choice, least of all on his twenty-seventh birthday.

Lying in the meadows, his eyes wide open staring at nothing, he stood there talking with his lifelong friends, waiting for the sunset.

Only at the end of that day would he go to see his parents.

The tombstones of Louis De Mauriac and Ilda Von Trakl had been placed in an isolated corner of the Avize residence.

Under an ancient oak that bordered the southwest corner, the two effigies of Julien's parents stood out against the whiteness of the marble.

The two bodies had rested there for almost eleven years.

A road accident, a head-on with a means of transport for goods, had put an end to the life of the Mauriac spouses, on a day in the summer of 1922.

Julien was only sixteen and, from that moment, he would have had to fend for himself, enduring enormous pressure deriving from his social status and his wealth.

He didn't lose heart and got busy, helped and refreshed by his lifelong friends.

Hi mom, hi dad.

Thus ended that day.

In the following weeks, the German political situation became clearer.

All the worst forecasts were met, indeed exceeded by far.

There will be no more elections in Germany.

Julien's certainty had soon become a shared thought, above all after the book burnings which, fomented by Hitler's loyalists, were spreading in every city.

Whoever burns books will sooner or later burn men too .

Julien trembled as he reread that quote from Heine.

The French government began to give a major boost to funds for the definitive construction of the Maginot Line. In general, Julien felt that the Western powers were sleeping too soundly.

America was gripped by very strong internal problems.

Roosevelt's election had been greeted with enormous joy, but his program, called the New Deal , had to come up against a very delicate social situation.

Unemployment and poverty had clearly spread and organized crime had spread widely within society, controlling entire cities and completely corrupting the police departments.

For this reason, Julien had promised himself to return to the United States, if only to experience those changes first-hand and see first-hand the industrial innovations they were introducing.

The inventiveness and desire for enterprise of those people were something extraordinary, a lost side of Europe that had by now forgotten the pioneering spirit of the frontier.

Checking the state of the vines daily, consulting with his farmer Pierre Houlmont, Julien kept himself informed on the evolution of his production.

A passage through the cellars in the early afternoon brought him into contact with that magical world of champagne fermentation.

Ritual gestures, performed every day bordering on perfection, accompanied the growth of that heritage.

Man can only make worse what Nature is very good at.

His father's saying had been engraved at the entrance to the cellar to remind us that all manufacturing processes had to be as non-invasive as possible.

Julien personally took care of accounting and investments, after all that had been his strong point.

He had repeatedly received job offers from banks who had asked him to take care of their investments, but he had declined these offers.

Just as he didn't feel like a scientist, despite his double degree in Mathematics and Physics, he didn't think he was an economist or a financier.

In the evenings, after reading, he devoted himself to music.

It was his way of completely disconnecting from the rest of the world.

Playing the piano and composing free notes, his mind hovered above the everyday, transcending the present and the present.

Towards the end of May he had finished perfecting his latest creation.

As agreed, he summoned his friends to the blue room on Saturday 27 May.

They would all spend an evening together, as often happened.

Charles, despite having visited the Mauriac house thousands of times, was always amazed when he entered the blue room.

Your mother had a truly sublime idea. It vaguely recalls Giotto's blue, a mix between the Upper Basilica of Assisi and the Scrovegni Chapel.

Charles was the only one of Julien's friends who had traveled nearly as much as he.

He was a profound connoisseur of Italy, perhaps better than the young Mauriac himself.

They sat comfortably on the sofa awaiting Julien's execution.

I still haven't understood the meaning of this music. I wrote it by finding the notes I don't know where. I have no idea what intonation to give, whether that of a triumph, a march or a dirge.

In fact, that exactly ten-minute sonata had no title.

Finding titles is the hardest thing in the world. It means truly understanding what has been done and condensing it into a few words.

Julien began placing his fingers on the white keys of the piano.

Each of the three friends listened to that melody that pervaded the environment.

Where did those notes come from? How had he put them together in such mathematical rhythm?

Nobody explained it.

Pauses and fugues, leitmotifs and virtuosity alternated.

It was something vaguely familiar.

Charles thought of Italy, literature, Dante and Rostand, Proust and Mann, Joyce and Kafka. And then Chopin and Beethoven.

For Philippe the link with Einstein's relativity and with quantum mechanics was evident, that music ranged from the infinite to the infinitesimal.

On the other hand, Louis recognized the philosophical purity of Kantian and Hegelian thoughts, but at the same time the irrationality of Nietzsche and Schopenhauer and the great mastery of Socrates.

Halfway through the execution, everyone wandered through their memories.

Charles glimpsed his father's shop, filled with every possible merchandise.

His parents taking stock, his brothers playing hiding in their clothes and finally the countryside around Avize. Bike rides and football matches with friends.

Philippe materialized in front of him his family's study and the intense smell of wood and impregnating agent.

That time he dived into the pond near Reims and escapes after stealing grapes from the fields.

Louis sensed the different artificial aromas of medicinal components and he pictured himself climbing trees as a child, trying to see further until, at the age of eight, he finally managed to see Reims Cathedral.

Towards the end of the composition, the three friends began to wander in their respective dreams.

Undefined figures of women, childish faces and female forms, fawn hair in the wind and golden ringlets, white skins and reddish lips.

Newborn babies and the progress that was soon to come.

When Julien lifted his hands from the keyboard, none of the three friends really understood that the music was over.

Those notes remained in the air as if they still echoed in everyone's mind.

Only after about twenty seconds, they plunged back into the real world.

How long had it been?

They didn't know. Maybe a second, maybe a lifetime, maybe centuries.

Yet it was only ten minutes. Six hundred seconds exactly, not one more, not one less.

Julien expected some comment, perhaps applause or criticism, but no one was able to utter a word.

It was as if they had come face to face with their own ego, with memories and the future, with consciousness and will.

They looked at each other and each seemed to have an aura of bliss.

They said nothing.

Julien understood and did not want to question them.

That music hadn't had any effect on him, it was as if he were immune to that intrigue of notes.

He looked out on the balcony overlooking the blue room to admire the landscape of Avize.

Everything seemed so immutable, but it was pure illusion.

Every inhabitant of those areas knew very well what had happened during the war.

Their world had been wiped out, Reims had been reduced to ashes, including the Cathedral, where almost all Capetians were crowned and where Joan of Arc realized her vision.

That rural balance, which rightly boasted of one of the most valuable productions in the world, was so precarious.

The Great War had completely changed the scenario.

After those five years of massacre, it became evident that technology had come up with increasingly deadly and invasive weapons.

Not only cannons with immense range, but tanks, armored personnel carriers, submarines and aircraft would carry the war everywhere.

The civilian population, already severely affected between 1914 and 1918, would no longer be safe anywhere.

Perhaps that music had served Julien to remove the specter of violence, embodied in his opinion by the evil influence of National Socialism.

His friends followed in respectful silence.

Unlike the other evenings, nobody wanted to talk about international political events.

They didn't want to spoil the atmosphere that had been created.

There was a bustle in the distance towards the residence which, before the War, had belonged to Count Beualieu .

It was an ancient residence surrounded by a secular park.

A part of this park had been sold to raise cash, together with all the land holdings.

In 1916, during the second winter of the war, the last descendants of the Beaulieu family had moved to Paris, leaving the house, which remained uninhabited until 1922.

Taken over by a wealthy citizen of Reims, it was transformed into a country house, but little used by the new owner.

The same went bankrupt in 1931, due to debts incurred during the first phase of the economic crisis.

At the beginning of 1933, the bankruptcy auction had assigned the property to a lawyer from Brittany, a certain François Lagardère.

The lawyer had probably used his bankruptcy court experience to make a good deal.

From that moment, during the weekend, the lawyer Lagardère made a visit to Avize to monitor the renovation works and to coordinate the moving activities.

The previous day, Friday 26 May 1933, he had definitively moved with his family to the residence, immediately renamed as Lagardère House.

The lawyer allegedly practiced in and around Reims, taking advantage of practically non-existent competition.

To give prestige to his family, he had organized a reception open to almost all the inhabitants of Avize.

Julien and his friends had been invited, as had most of the families of a certain class.

It was said that the lawyer had spared no expense, either in furnishing the house or in organizing the reception.

Philippe's father had been commissioned a writing desk and an inlaid dining table, both of inestimable value.

Julien had been contacted by the solicitor's jack of all trades to supply three cases of Mauriac champagne.

An order of this type was not seen so often, above all because the majority of the Mauriac production was already booked year after year by loyal customers and connoisseurs scattered all over the world.

In Avize there was nothing but talk of the Lagardère family, at least in recent weeks.

It was a frivolous subject, ideal for taking the mind off the dark omens emanating from the Reich.

Perhaps for this reason, the four friends, intent on admiring the quiet of Avize's evening, found a common consensus when speaking of that reception.

So tomorrow we will meet our new fellow citizens... Charles began.

I've already seen the lawyer, Philippe ruled.

He's a middle-aged man, totally bald, but with a long, well-kept moustache. He always dresses elegantly and uses polished language. He's come to my father's studio.

Julien added the description of his encounter with the factotum.

Three cases of Mauriac Pas Dosé ?

Louis didn't believe what the landlord said.

Precisely.

And what vintage?

Julien shrugged.

Those kind of people don't care about the vintage. They just want to have the best name of each stock. I gave them a case of each of the last few vintages.

Charles tried to enliven the discussion:

They say he had this reception because he has to place his three daughters...they are of marriageable age.

They all smiled.

The eldest is my age and her name is Sylvie, added Louis.

They say she's an extraordinary beauty. With long red hair and eyes as green as spring meadows.

You are well informed!!, commented Charles.

The youngest daughter has just turned eighteen. My sister says her name is Sophie and the father regards her as the smartest person he knows.

Philippe intervened with his vehemence:

Well...said by the father, one must understand the significance of this statement. However, you too, Charles, got information!

Snorting for deep breaths, he continued:

The middle sister, Laure, they say she talks like they did in the 19th century. At least that's what my mother told me when she heard it from the neighbor.

They had been in Avize for less than a day, but everyone already seemed to know those three sisters.

Indeed, no one had met or glimpsed them, and all impressions were based on rumors from a farming village.

I see their fame preceded them and you've all been informed. Am I the only one who doesn't know anything about them?

Julien joked with his friends.

Three sisters...the father will spend an immense sum for the dowries!

They laughed.

Charles noted:

Three sisters looking for husbands and we are four men looking for wives. What do we deduce from this?

He turned to the others waiting for an answer.

That at least one of us will be left without!

Philippe always knew how to be the one with the joke ready.

No dear friend, you overestimate our love skills. Instead I stop at pure reality and therefore I deduce: but why did they stop at the third one?

Louis added a touch of his natural sarcasm every time.

The evening had given way to the darkness of the night, the late May air still felt the freshness of spring.

It wouldn't be like that for much longer. In a few weeks, the heat would be pressing.

It was what was needed for the grapes to ripen.

The eternal cycle of Nature would have imprinted some minimal differences compared to the previous year until the fermentation in the bottle would not have revealed that change, infusing the champagne of that vintage with a completely unique touch.

In anticipation of those events, the four friends retired to savor some cognac.

Their spirits were happy and sweet, they had witnessed sublime music being played and they had become intoxicated by the landscape of Avize.

See you tomorrow.

Julien took leave of them by closing the main door of the Mauriac residence.

Before going to bed he thought it was just a reception, probably very similar to those he had attended in Paris.

As at those parties, there would be pretty girls and comely women.

After all, those three sisters would not have changed much his life, his friendships and the natural course of events.

II

II

Avize - Reims - Paris, summer-winter 1918

––––––––

War was decided in Amiens.

That phrase did not cause any sensation in twelve-year-old Julien De Mauriac, despite his father's utterance.

It had already been four years that adults took turns expressing phrases of that type.

Only the names of cities or rivers changed.

It was August 9, 1918 and that day was a real triumph for France and its allies.

As many as ten divisions were employed with over five hundred tanks, the new weapons that the British had been able to field.

The German front seemed to collapse, retreating almost twenty kilometers.

For years they had fought for the so-called no man's land, a handkerchief of land that separated the enemy trenches.

Well, the trench.

The true symbol of that conflict, together with mud and gas.

The extreme proximity of the front had caused irreversible damage to Reims.

Most of the city had been destroyed, including the famous cathedral.

Julien remembered very well