The narrator settles into Lucien's apartment in Paris, noting that he asks few questions and frequently refers to her as his wife, even speaking of marriage. She has constructed a cover identity as 'Sadie,' a thirty-four-year-old American who walks dogs in Vincennes for income—a deliberately chosen occupation because it is solitary, informal, and unverifiable, and because it positions her as someone Lucien would want to rescue.

She claims to be from Priest Valley, California, a name she selected for its evocative quality. To Lucien, a cinephile, it conjures Bressonian rural imagery. In reality, Priest Valley is uninhabited—merely a signpost on an obscure highway flanked by ruined outbuildings and old poplar trees, which she connects to the poplars near Lucien's family country home. Crucially, the name appears on maps, making it verifiable enough to satisfy Pascal Balmy or anyone at Le Moulin who might inquire.

The narrator reflects that her relationship with Lucien, Pascal's childhood friend, will shield her from the paranoia typical of insurrectionary groups. Lucien wants Pascal as a wedding witness, but the narrator privately knows Pascal would refuse on ideological grounds—ritual bonds must not involve the state. She also knows there will be no wedding because she will have departed before the paperwork is complete.

She catalogues the persona Lucien accepts: French-speaking, cultured, educated but underemployed, sexually appealing in ways he finds mysterious, and conversant in the film history that fuels his cinephile confidence. She notes that cinephiles mistake expertise for artistry, but she can speak their language. The chapter closes with her observation that this minimal package of details is, remarkably, all anyone needs to know.