Toulon – Lyon : 54 – 21

The Toulon corsair ship had LOU pitching and rolling on the waters of Mayol: eight tries, two penalties, an attacking tidal wave. LOU, like a canoe in a storm, could do nothing to contain the Var men, guided by conductor-in-chief Baptiste Serin. In the shade of the palm trees, the party was under way. In that ballet, Toulon played the sun, the sea, the lightning. Lyon, the foam that breaks apart. The result: a provisional podium place for Toulon, a shipwreck foretold for LOU, who looked like a soaked cat: grumpy, powerless, but rather endearing.

Pau – Perpignan : 27 – 23

In Pau, the Béarn mountain shivered under the Catalan assault. Pau came through, but at a price: four tries scored, two conceded, and the impression that Perpignan had come within touching distance of an upset. The plot: Pau opened like a gentle dawn, Perpignan like an unexpected storm. The wind got up, and so did the rain. In the end, the Section hung on to their boots and clung to the top of the table, while USAP gleaned a first point the way a shipwrecked sailor picks up a message in a bottle.

Bayonne – Montauban : 49 – 7

Bayonne prove that at home, a legend is built match after match. Seven tries, a festival and Basques in a trance. Bayonne took Montauban by the hand… before leading them in a dance on a volcano. Montauban, lost in the azure blue, took the bill without flinching. The Bayonne forwards, meanwhile, ploughed the turf like agricultural poets. At Jean-Dauger, they don’t play rugby, they compose sonnets. And Montauban, alas, could find neither the rhyme nor the rhythm.

Castres – Bordeaux : 26 – 28

Against Bordeaux, Castres saw red… UBB invited themselves to the banquet and helped themselves to the cutlery. A win snatched at the death, without their stars, and yet full of daring. The Tarn men thought they were holding the candle, Bordeaux blew out the flame. There was suspense, tries, hands in the air… and one last Gironde dagger. The defensive bonus point for Castres is a consolation. Two points between them, a thousand Tarn regrets, and a UBB intoxicated by a win with no grand cru but an intense bouquet.

Montpellier – Clermont : 7 – 9

A slog, or a little gem of pragmatism, depending on your point of view. Three penalties, one try, and a lot of dust. This was not a fireworks display, it was a chamber play behind closed doors. Clermont played rugby the way you knit a scarf: methodically, without flourish, but warm. Montpellier tried improvisation, without success: too many penalties, not enough flame. In the end, the men in yellow won by attrition, leaving in the air the rare scent of an ugly but precious victory. You applaud the defence, you contemplate the efficiency, you sigh for the spectacle you would have liked to be a little more flamboyant.

Toulouse – Stade Français : 29 – 17

It was a play in two acts. Paris, dashing, led as the curtain went up: a try, panache, a splash of pink in the set. But Toulouse, that old lion of the South-West, stretched, yawned, then devoured the lot. The Dupont effect, officially extended (until 2031) at half-time? Stade Toulousain delivered a classic, with verve and elegance, while Stade Français left the stage, suit crumpled and tie askew. What will stay is the art of the fightback and a Stade Français who gave them a bit of a run-around… before going down, while still denying Toulouse the bonus point. A small feat in itself.

La Rochelle – Racing 92 : 33 – 6

La Rochelle hoisted their sails, the Racing men raised their arms… to shield themselves from the wind. Under rain and fury, La Rochelle rolled out their rugby of spray and swell. Alldritt as corsair captain, Hastoy as an inspired helmsman, and a granite scrum. Racing, bogged down, never managed to hoist the mainsail. 33-6: a polite shipwreck, but a total one. On the Vieux Port, they no longer talk about the storm… they celebrate it.