CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
At 87 years of age, Professor Auguste de Villepin’s voice may have been gravelly and a bit fainter than it had once been, but it was no less sharp.
“How many times have I told you I’m not going to vote? I don’t care what party you’re from. Every politician in France is a thief and a liar! I’d guillotine them all given half a chance!”
Remi smiled. “Hello, Professor de Villepin.”
Her old advisor recognized her voice instantly. “Remi! How good to hear from you. The department has been much uglier since you left. The younger generation of girls don’t make themselves up right. Too tarty. You need to be subtle to grab a man. Have you seen sense and come back to Paris?”
“No, I’m still in America.”
“Still casting pearls before swine, eh? Well, just as long as you don’t fall
