Lisa at the top of a high peak: behind her, Jose Gurland lugs the briefcase, and Mrs. Gurland lugs Benjamin.

The view came on so sudden, for a moment it struck me like a fata morgana. Down there below, from where we had come, the Mediterranean reappeared. On the other side, ahead, steep cliffs—another sea? But of course, the Spanish coast. Two worlds of blueness. In our back, to the north, Catalonia's Roussillon country. Deep down La Côte Vermeille, the autumn earth in a hundred shades of vermillion. I gasped: never had I seen anything so beautiful.

I knew that we were now in Spain, and that from here on the road would run straight until the descent into the town.
I could not risk being caught on Spanish soil. But, no, I could not yet leave this group to themselves, not quite yet. Just another short stretch... »