ABSTRACT
Let us begin with a postcard, which might have been titled: ‘the man who knew too much’.1 Under the plane trees in the village square, two men linger. The one in white, relaxing in his folding chair, walking cane suspended to his knee and cigarette to his mouth (it was only in his forties that he learned to smoke, living for a while with Spanish muleteers) lends an ear to the man in black leaning by his side, also smoking and beret-clad (see Figure 9.1). There is also a photographer present, to take and then print the snapshot on postcard paper for the seated man, who annotates its verso and inserts it in one of his autobiographical photo albums, now deposited at the Musée des antiquités nationales (recently renamed the Musée d’archéologie nationale) in Saint-Germain-en-Laye.
