27
Barcarolles, The Tales of Hoffman (Offenbach)
Violet (thoughts)
September 20, early morning hours
I don’t turn. Arturo’s voice reaches my hearing as if he were far away : “I was waiting for you.”
I try to switch on the light. It flickers twice before stabilizing. I dash to the door. Nico stops me.
“I won’t harm you, quite the opposite. I didn’t want to bother you while you were looking at the stars… In the end, you were happy; at least, that was my impression.”
Nico is enjoying his joke.
“Were you watching me ? I thought your job was over; at least, as far as you were concerned.”
“No, not exactly. Donomarenko is dead.”
Time has stopped. Nico is examining me with some kind of fulfillment that, strangely, doesn’t come from him but from me. I’m offering him a good show, I guess :
