Chapter 51 knock on the door

It was summer, a hot day.On the way home, my sister and I passed by a courtyard.I don't know if she knocked on the door out of mischief or inattention, or if she just shook her fist and didn't knock at all.Go forward another hundred steps, and at the place where the main road turns to the left, you will be at the head of the village.We were not familiar with this village, but as soon as we passed the first house, people came out to greet us, some were friendly, some issued warnings, some even panicked, and some hunched over in panic.They pointed to the courtyard we passed, reminding us that we had knocked on the door.The owner of the compound will sue us and an investigation will begin immediately.I was very calm, and I comforted my sister.She probably didn't knock at all, and if she did, there's no evidence anywhere in the world.I try to make that clear to those around us.They listened to me carefully, but were unwilling to pass judgment.Later they said that not only my sister, but even me as an older brother would be prosecuted. I smiled and nodded.We all looked back at the courtyard as if we were looking at the smoke in the distance, waiting to see the fire.Sure enough, we soon saw several men on horseback enter the open gate of the house.Dust rose high, covering everything except for the gleaming spear points.No sooner had the party disappeared into the yard than they seemed to turn their horses around at once and galloped towards us along the road.I urged my sister to leave, and I will finish everything alone.She refused to leave me alone.But at least she should change at least, I said, and go to those gentlemen in something nicer.She finally agreed and embarked on the long road home.The men on horseback had come to us, and they were on horseback asking where my sister was going.She is not here now, so she answered cautiously, but she will come later.The responses were casually recorded.The most important thing seems to be that they found me.Chiefly two gentlemen, the judge a lively young man, and his taciturn assistant known as Asman.They want me to go to the farmhouse.Under the watchful eyes of the gentlemen, I shook my head, fiddled with my trouser straps, and moved slowly.I thought that one word would be enough to rid me, a townsman, of these hicks, and even get rid of them gloriously.But when I crossed the threshold of the farmhouse, the judge who jumped up ahead and waited for me said, "I feel sorry for the man." No doubt he was referring not to my present situation, but to my future fate. .The house looked like a farmhouse, but it looked more like a prison cell.The floor was paved with large stone slabs, the light was dim, the walls were bare, and there was an iron ring in one place in the wall, and in the middle of the room was the thing that served as both a wooden bed and an operating table.

Can I smell any other air than this prison air?That's a big problem, or rather, if there's any hope of release, it's a problem.