Upstairs, meanwhile, Anatole went on with his own life. He went to work, presumably at the gym, I thought, and when he was home often listened to something that was either radio or television—all I could hear was a vague murmur in what I thought must be a foreign language.
Then, one day I made a discovery.
I had been watching a DVD on Medieval art, when, intending to pause it so I could visit the washroom, I accidentally pressed a wrong button. A news reporter appeared, and now and then some text at the bottom of the screen that looked like Greek. After watching for several seconds, I pressed Mute on the control—and then froze.
I could hear, I thought, the continuance of the very same modulated sound I had just silenced, muffled to a murmur, upstairs! Puzzled, and looking at the display
