Montsegur, 1989 Monica and I reached the foot of the Montségur Mountain one August evening. We stood in the place where 220 Cathars were buried alive in 1224. We had planned to climb it the following day. The weather was overcast, with clouds so low that we could not even see the ruins at the top of the gigantic rock. Just to provoke Monica, I said that it might be interesting to make the climb that very night. She said no, and I was relieved, imagine if she had said yes! At that moment a car drove up, the same make and color as mine. An Irishman stepped out and asked us as if we were from the region, from what point the rock could be climbed. I suggested that he make the climb the next morning with us, but he was determined to go up that very night. He wanted to see the sunrise from up there, claiming that perhaps he had been a Cathar in a past life. “I wonder if you could lend me a lamp?” he asked. I went to the HOTEL IN the village where we were staying and borrowe