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you.”
    “And I’ll eat some of you, too.”
    The laughter grows stronger, and it is obvious they are happy with each other.
    Later he hears the man’s voice. “It’s late. I have to go.”
    “And when will you come back?” she asks right away.
    “I don’t know. My unit is going north.”
    “If you come back here, don’t forget me.”
    “Of course not.”
    “I was good to you, right?”
    “Excellent.”
    After a short silence the man says, “They’re probably sending my unit to the front.”
    “I hope not,” says Mariana.
    “Pray for me that I won’t be wounded. Better to die than be wounded. A wounded man is as good as dead. I’ve taken care of a lot of wounded men.”
    “I’ll pray, I promise you.”
    “Do you go to church?”
    “Sometimes.”
    “My whole name is Johann Sebastian. My parents named me after the famous composer. They hoped I would become a musician.”
    “I’ll pray, I promise.”
    “Is that a strange request?”
    “No, why?”
    “I’ve seen too many wounded men in the past two years.”
    “Don’t be scared, dear.”
    “I’m not afraid of death. I’m afraid of being wounded.” He leaves, and Mariana leaves right after him. The silence returns.
    Hugo lays his head on the sheepskins and says to himself, Strange things happen here. I don’t understand a thing . He closes his eyes, and again Uncle Sigmund appears to him. Because of his alcoholism, Uncle Sigmund never finished his medical studies. He kept promising his sister that he would soon dry out and return to them. That went on for years.
    Not only was his drinking shameful. Sometimes he would bring a woman with him, usually from the lower classes, who was also addicted to drink. She would cling to him, hugging and kissing him in front of everybody and declaring, “Sigmund is a prince. Sigmund is a king.” Seeing such a woman, Hugo’s mother’s eyes would turn saffron yellow. His father was less sensitive, and during Uncle Sigmund’s strange appearances, he would sit and talk with him, sometimes for hours, about medicine and literature. Hugo didn’t understand a thing from those conversations, but he enjoyed watching the men. Even then he would say to himself, Everything I see, I’ll lock up in my heart . The thought that life passes by and that the dead will not come back to life pained him even then.

10
    Hugo has apparently been forgotten, because it is ten o’clock before Mariana stands at the closet door with a cup of milk in her hand.
    “How’s Mariana’s sweet little puppy?”
    “He’s okay.” Hugo is drawn into her way of speaking.
    “Soon Mariana is going to tidy up the room and you can move over into it. Mariana won’t sleep this morning. She has to go to town and buy some things for herself. You can amuse yourself quietly.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Why do you say thank you for everything? Mariana’s not used to being thanked. You only have to say thank you for big things.”
    Like what? he wants to ask, but he doesn’t ask.
    Hugo drinks the warm milk, and he feels that every sip eases the thirst that has tortured him since he woke up. Meanwhile, Mariana tidies her room, puts on makeup, changes her blouse, and when she comes back to him, she is already different: her face is open. The smile of a contented woman lights it.
    “Sweet puppy, Mariana’s locking the door. If somebody knocks, don’t answer.”
    Mariana’s way of referring to herself in the third personamuses his ear for a moment. He has never heard anyone talk about himself that way. Mariana repeats her instruction: “If someone knocks on the door, don’t answer. You mustn’t make a mistake, do you hear?”
    Sometimes Mariana talks to him in German—faulty German, a little like children’s speech. Several times he wants to correct her mistakes, but in his heart he knows that Mariana won’t like that.
    Before going out, she says to him, “If you’re hungry, eat the sandwiches that are on the dresser. They’re tasty.”