Yes, I am calm, I must be quiet, when in his room, the conservation instinct, call it so, I will regain the use of all my faculties, and Emma does not know anything. In addition, it may have been asleep, and if so tomorrow there will be no fight for my delay, and that which is tomorrow, I will be so clean and wine as the Quran.

He came home, opened with his latchkey, a light, rose on tiptoe and went into the rooms of his wife. A sad lamp, hidden in a white matte glass rose, shone from a corner cabinet, in the bedroom where he slept Emma, ​​were in the majority of darkness, the little light that reached there served only to give shape to the wild and formidable most innocent objects.

Bonis went to bed in the dark, stretching his neck, opening her eyes and stepping in a particular way that he had discovered to get the boots do not scream, as they used to. This was one of the casualties believed to be bound by law of adverse destiny, provided the soles of their shoes were loud.

As he approached his wife came to remember the Moor of Venice, whose history he knew from Rossini’s opera, yes, he was Otello and his wife Desdemona … only in reverse, that is, he came to be a Desdemona and his wife could very well be an Othello, whose genius for it was not lacking.

The main thing, for one, was whether he slept.

He asked the Supreme Maker with all the fervor of his heart. He had spent a quarter hour of the set for the last rub of the night.

-At least silent thought, when he was still, because his feet had stumbled onto the bed.