‘What on earth are you doing there?’
Dazed, my arse in the damp grass, I blinked in the light of the electric torch trained on my face. My fall had lasted only a fraction of a second, from the first floor to the lawn. The caretaker put his overcoat on my shoulders and helped me up. ‘That was stupid, wasn’t it? How far did you think you’d get in your gown? You’ll catch your death of cold.’
I let myself be led back, docile. I could not even achieve the ridiculous. My walk along the hospital corridors, watched in astonishment by the night staff, was like one of those nightmares where you are naked in the middle of the street. The nurse who looked after me scolded me like a naughty child. She wasn’t as ugly as all that, just a little overweight. She put me back into bed and made me take a sedative. ‘You disappoint me, Monsieur Colombier, you really do. Don’t you know that there are dozens of people here who would love to be in your position? I don’t understand it, I don’t understand …’
And I didn’t understand why life and death chose to amuse themselves at my expense, sending me back like a tennis ball. Even under the covers, I could not stop shivering. I sneezed several times in quick succession. Great, I had attempted to end it all and had caught a cold. A snot-nose, that’s all I was, a snot-nose that no one wanted. It was with that pitiable realisation that I closed my eyes, lulled to sleep by a sleeping pill.