Chapter 24 Chapter Four

The house is empty, the door is locked, the carpet is rolled up, the air that has lost its companions, they are the vanguard of an army, break into the house, brush the bare walls, bite and flap, Nothing was encountered in the bedrooms and living room to stand up to them in its entirety, only crackling drapes, creaking wood, table legs with peeling paint, musty, downy, tarnished, cracked and broken casseroles and china.What people discard and leave behind—a pair of boots, a hunting cap, a few faded dresses in a closet—only these things retain the traces of people and show, in a void, how much they once were. Fulfilling and alive: slender hands once hurriedly hooked and fastened buttons; the vanity mirror once reflected a beautiful face, reflecting an illusory world in which a body turned around, a With a wave of his hand, the door opened, and the children swarmed in and went out again.Now day after day, the light changes, like a flower reflected in the water, its clear-cut image is projected onto the opposite wall.Only the shadows of the trees, swaying in the wind, bowed in respect on the opposite wall, occasionally obscuring the pool in which the sun reflected; skimmed across the floor.

Thus grace and silence ruled, and together they formed the shape of beauty itself--a shape from which life separates--solitary and remote as a pool at dusk; from the window of a swiftly passing train Looking out, the pale pool in the dusk disappeared suddenly, and although it was glanced at, it hardly lessened its loneliness.Grace and silence go hand in hand in the bedroom, and even the wind peeps between the cloth-covered kettle and the quilt-covered chair, the soft nose of the wet and cold sea breeze, rubbing, sniffing, repeatedly Inquiry—"Will you fade? Will you disappear?"—but hardly disturbs that quiet, indifferent, pure integrity, as if the question it raises hardly needs answering: we remain.

Nothing seemed to tarnish its image, tarnish its innocence, or disturb the dominating silence that, week after week, in that empty room, The noises, the monotonous sounds of the fields, the barking of dogs and the shouts of people, all weave it into itself, and fold them quietly, wrapping them around the house.Only once, at midnight, did a plank break with a roar, and fall on the landing of the stairs, as if, after centuries of silence, a rock had split from the hill and flew into the valley, shattering; , the veil of silence surrounding the room loosened a corner and fluttered back and forth in the wind.Then calm returned; the shadows of the trees danced; the sun bowed to its own shadow cast on the wall; The boots on the roof crushed it.She came by order, opened all the windows, and dusted the bedroom.