After that heavy dinner of fatty food and salty cheeses, McGauran needed to move. And the wine. He had way too much of it. The wine unties his tongue. Makes him feel amorous and carnal.
They’ve been walking for hours, and he’s surprised at Honoré’s endurance. First, they headed south to Water Street and strolled through the old city’s cobblestone streets there. Then they went north to Craig Street and walked past the cattle market, stopping at the Viger Square, where they sat and talked for almost two hours while Honoré fed the pigeons with the bread he’d stashed away in his coat before leaving Ethier’s. They shared their thoughts on many subjects, including Honoré’s favorite: poetry and expression. After some coaxing, Honoré recited a few lines from an epic written by a blind Englishman
