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had been certain that it was unique. He would demand an explanation from his antique dealer in Blaye soon enough, but Julie’s steady voice and blue eyes calmed him. There was grape harvesting, with people in the rows of grapevines, a small creek and rather tall, very green trees on the side, along with a manor with ocher-colored walls at the bottom. Yet, even though the cracking and snail-shaped scaling were similar, the paintings were not exactly the same. No doubt the same painter had done both overmantels. The aging, impasto, traces of mold, gaps and colors she had to regenerate all corresponded.
    When she finished talking, Benjamin had trouble detaching himself from her blue eyes, which seemed to become brighter and brighter as her face became animated.
    “Do you know the owner of the overmantel, Mademoiselle?” he asked, visibly excited.
    “It belongs to Doctor Bladès, an ear-nose-throat specialist who works in the Saint-Gènes neighborhood. I think his office in on the Cours de l’Argonne.”
    “I’m curious to see this overmantel. Can you see the little chapel near the manor house?”
    “No, and it is just that detail that gives character to yours. Particularly the edge of the facade, which is especially delicate,” Julie said.
    “It is the Mission Haut-Brion chapel. Monks dedicated it to the Virgin Mary toward the end of the 17 th century. There is no mistaking it, and I agree with you, it gives the painting character.”
    “I took a picture of your overmantel before restoring it, if you are interested,” said Pascale Dartigeas. “I’ll lend it to you, but you’ll have to remember to bring it back for my records. In the meantime, what do we do with this repainted face of your cellar master?”
    “I don’t know. Do your best, as always!”
    “In that case, I have a proposition for you. We could do a portrait of you and replace the man’s face with yours. This was what people used to do, and I’m sure that this man has taken on the various identities of each one of the painting’s owners.”
    The winemaker found the idea amusing and promised to come back with a picture for the restorer to use as inspiration. Then he asked to consult one of the eight volumes of the Benezit Dictionary of Artists to find out who was behind the painting’s signature. It was a certain T. Roussy, whom he found quickly on page 395 of volume seven covering artists with names between “Poute” and “Syn,” as shown in gold lettering on the spine of the book, which was the color of wine lees. Benjamin removed the cap of his fountain pen, took hold of his spiral notebook and leaned over the table to jot down the information.
    “Toussaint Roussy, born in Sète (Hérault) in 1847 (French School). Studied at the School of Fine Arts. Curator at the museum in Sète. His career began at the 1877 Salon. The Sète museum has the following works: The Fiddler’s Lunch , The Swiss Church , Entry to the Port of Sète , Beer Hour . The museum in Béziers has The Cooper’s Refreshment Stall .”
    The winemaker closed the thick volume and took leave of the two women with a courteous deference that exhibited his traditional upbringing and good British manners. When he stepped out of the workshop, he crossed the Place Saint-Michel and bought a lamb kebab from a tiny take-out. Then he went to sit at the base of the bell tower facing the church.
    Around him, a group of acne-faced teenagers were playing with a soft-drink can. Young Kabyles from northern Algeria formed another group under a basketball hoop near the Gothic bell tower. On the steps in front of the church, a couple of lovers whispered to each other. Nobody paid any attention to Benjamin Cooker. The sun was warm, and no heads turned to see him savor his too-fatty, too-spicy overcooked sandwich that should have ended up in the first garbage can he found.

5
    T HE SKY SUDDENLY TURNED overcast in the early afternoon. The tide change swept in darker clouds, and a light, damp wind