"I have to go see him. I can't just sit around," Adelard said, grabbing his jacket and looking at the door again. After everyone left, the house felt a little cold and lonely. There was a breeze walking around the room, touching the fire in the fireplace. Papers with words crawled slowly along the walls and the table, following the wind. And Percival swayed lazily in his chair, looking at Adelard, who was clearly tormented by his conscience. But he couldn't imagine what was going on in his house, right in his bedroom. He couldn't even imagine what was going on in his room, by candlelight and with his portrait on the wall. Namely that his best friend was sleeping peacefully on his bed while his wife sat beside him, hugging his arm and kissing every finger. He was unaware of the conversation that lasted until they were in bed. The two worlds, existing side by side with each other, nevertheless recalled each other. The luxury, along with the cold, small house, seemed to dance, trying t

"What's your name?" Nicholas asked, looking at him. "Percival." "How's he doing?" Nicholas asked as if Adelard wasn't here. "He's having a hard time. But he's smiling. He tries to smile. Though every smile is like a sharp knife." "Where did you find him?" "I found him at the inn. His baby was sick and I found him at the moment when the two voices sounded in intense crying." "Does he live with you now?" "Yes." "Where? What kind of house do you have and what kind of work do you do?" "In a village. Not far from Paris. I am a writer. I make a living at it. I write articles for the newspaper and sometimes stories for children. It's enough to buy food and clothes." "What kind of house do you have?" "Just an ordinary house. There are only two rooms. But the rooms are big and the house is warm." "How old are you?" "Thirty."&

Adelard was surprised. But nevertheless, he replied, "I'm thinking. Just thinking." "I haven't seen you here before. Where are you from?" "From a very distant town," Adelard replied with sadness in his voice. "Everyone talks about you. And they say you are a very rich man. I see now. You really are rich. Very sad, though. Is it because of love?" "At first my sadness was for love. Then, sadness became just sadness. I lost everything." "We all lose everything. Nothing can stay with us forever. Not even our thoughts, not even ourselves," she said and sat down next to him. Looking at her feet, Adelard still couldn't help but ask. "Aren't you cold?" "No. I'm used to walking like this. I can't walk long in shoes. I need to feel nature." She touched his hair, thereby greatly surprising him. Curling a wavy lock on her finger, she said, "Your hair is so soft. I've never felt hair like that." 

There were more and more people around. And among them, Adelard saw Esma and others he knew. He raised his hand and shouted, "Esma!" But she didn't even look at him. She was just laughing with someone and that someone was kissing her. "Are you in some kind of trouble?" the gendarmes asked, ready to detain Adelard at any second. "Yes. We're in trouble. You think this is order? These people are all crazy," Percival said. "You're the ones who are crazy! The two of you! What's going on between you two? Adelard, aren't you ashamed? I knew your father and mother! Aren't you ashamed?!" These words were followed by rocks that landed in front of Adelard. Then heavier stones and then tomatoes. The woman and her child started throwing tomatoes at him. And everyone started laughing. "Adelard, and where is that kind smile of yours? Where is that angelic Adelard?" Laughter and shouting again surrounded him. But he heard

"What's the matter with him? He's been crying all day and even now," Percival muttered, trying to continue sleeping. Through the sounds of rain and thunder, he tried desperately to help Adelard, who had been sitting with Armand from morning until night. But sleep proved stronger even when the baby's cries could have woken even the neighbors. "I don't know. He seems to be sick again. What could it be? The milk is fresh. What's the matter with you?" "Adelard, let me help you," Percival whispered. "Go to sleep. You have to get up early tomorrow." Sinking into sleep, Percival had already begun to see different dreams, but Armand cried out even louder, and this time, he could not continue his sleep. Rising from the bed, he put on his robe and walked lazily over to Adelard. "What's wrong with him?" "If I knew." "Maybe he's hungry." "He has a fever." "Maybe he has a stomachache?"