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“You’re asking me? I don’t okay events.” Still snippy.

“And why did Professor Robinson choose to come here?”

“Why not?”

“Don’t you find it curious that while all her other lectures were out west, when she does come east, it’s not to the University of Toronto. Not to McGill or the Université de Montréal. Not to a big venue in a major city, but to a small university in a small town.”

“The Université de l’Estrie has a very good reputation,” said the Chancellor.

“C’est vrai,” he said, nodding. “It’s true. But it’s still surprising.”

His voice, though, had grown detached as he followed a train of thought. One that hadn’t occurred to him until now. He’d been so distracted by the moral, legal, logistical issues that he hadn’t paused to wonder why the Université de l’Estrie.

“Maybe the other places refused her,” he said, thinking out loud.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said.

He sighed. “I’ve struggled with this, Colette. Gone back and forth in my mind, until last night. That’s when I watched her most recent lecture and the aftermath. How the spectators turned on each other. Is she breaking the law? Is it hate speech?” He ran his hands through his hair. “No. But it’s already led to some very, very ugly confrontations.”

“Which is why I asked for you. I know it would be beyond campus security to protect Abigail.”

“Abigail?”

“Yes, that’s her name, isn’t it? Abigail Robinson.”

“Oui. But you used the familiar. Not ‘Professor Robinson.’ ” He uncrossed his legs and leaned toward her. “Do you know her? Personally?”

And now something else occurred to him.

“Is that why she chose the Université de l’Estrie? Did you invite her?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Non.”

The Chancellor stared at him. Then relented.

“You’re right, I did know her. Years ago. But I didn’t invite her here.”

“How do you know her?”

“I don’t see how it matters, but since you ask, I knew her father. We did some studies together. He was a statistician too. A friend. He asked me to look after Abigail when I was a guest lecturer in Oxford. She went there to read Maths.”

“What was she like?”

“Does it matter?”

“It helps to know the personality of the one I’m protecting. Are they aggressive? Fearful? Compliant? Will they listen to instructions or argue?”

Chancellor Roberge gazed over his shoulder and into the past.

Seeing the bright young men and women, barely more than boys and girls, ranged in front of her. They were just beginning to realize a hard truth. While they’d easily outpaced the other students in their schools back home, here at Oxford they’d struggle just to keep up. They’d gone, in the blink of an eye, from exceptional to average.

Many did not thrive, couldn’t adapt. But Abigail had managed to adjust quite quickly.

“Unlike most of her cohort, who could be maladroit, she was easy to like,” said Colette. “She didn’t come from an affluent background. It was a home that valued intellectual achievement. She was focused, likable.”

“Ambitious?”