Will the French forgive Macron for cancelling dinner?

I spent Saturday night with a dozen French blue bloods, hautes bourgeoises and banquiers at a hunting chateau on the banks of the Hérault river. It was an enchanting autumn evening. We finished pre-dinner apéros and as we were called to table by the ancient retainer (the last servant remaining, after decades of Republican depredations), the gilded Second Empire clock on the chimney piece chimed 9pm. We didn’t know it, but this was the last supper. At least for a while. A country celebrated for its cuisine, has just cancelled dinner.

The rules are still evolving but it’s possible that our meal would have been an unlawful assembly, had it been this weekend, and not last. Too many of us, for a start. And after our official bedtime. President Macron has copied his friend Boris Johnson and from now on, it’s a strict règle de six. But he’s gone further and declared a couvre-feu – a curfew.