She approached the door noiselessly, raising her skirts so that they would not rustle on the floor and carpets. She cautiously looked out and saw him, finally, beside the library next to the window that faced the inner garden. He stood absent-mindedly flipping through a book and looking occasionally, absentmindedly, at the gray exterior landscape, over which a monotonous cloud was once again gathering, promising rain and still more rain. He seemed to be absorbed in contemplating the garden and the sky, but at the same time beset with distant thoughts, of a very different nature, like tyrants.
His face looked pale and drawn and his long fingers tirelessly tormented the pages of the book he held in his hand. Anna looked at him for a long time, taking advantage of the fact that he could not
