He then mounted the jaded hack, which had long since regained its legs, and was quietly browsing the grass at the road-side, and, striking spurs into its side, rode off. The manager twisted his moustache. ‘Very inventive. When I examined you for ‘ill humors’ I longed to run my hands over your entire body, to touch your face, to caress you in the places that would give you pleasure. Here she would find candy awaiting her, bits of ribbon, books. I—I am a lovesick idiot, and not accountable for my actions. Gravely he placed them in his aunt's hand. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. I bring you tidings of an old friend.
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