I walked down the long street where Garric lived; I knew the number of his house; I moved towards it, hugging the walls: if he were suddenly to see me there, I was ready to sink through the ground with shame. For a brief moment I paused in front of his house, gazed up at the mournful brick façade, and stared at the door through which he passed every morning and evening; I went on my way; I looked at the shops, the cafés, and the square; he knew them all so well that he didn’t even see them any more. What had I come here for? I went home empty-handed.
