The house was just as it was when Martin lived in it. His mother had been picking white gladioli on the edge of the marsh and had arranged them in a large vase which she had then placed on the window sill, and through the beautiful, spiritual forms of the flowers he saw his father with his fists clenched in the air shouting until his lips turned purple, and his mother listening with a sceptical expression, not saying a word. Then his father began to cough, and couldn't speak any more, and then he went out into the garden, waving away the insects with impatient movements of his hands, started walking alongside the rushes by the water's edge, and after a few minutes he was humming some tune, perhaps even the melody of Storms of Life which his wife used to play on the piano when Patricia came to visit them, and all at once he seemed perfectly calm, indifferent, almost happy. Between the man and the boy a gulf had opened up that had swallowed the words. There is no need to call on cruelty, because cruelty will come without being called.
Life is blood.
All black things were once red. Rosaura has gone right to the edge of the landing stage. She is concerned about Toop, because it is cold and her summer dress is too light, because she is only nine years old, because she seems so small against the ashy immensity of the lake, because she could fall into the water, because there might be submarine currents or man-eating snakes concealed in the mud, but Martin has not the slightest fear, because he knows that Toop is invulnerable and that nothing, absolutely nothing can happen to her. Rosaura is unable to have children, and so they decided to adopt Toop, and today is the day they have chosen to tell Toop that they are not her real parents, and Martin wanted to do it in this place, the place of his childhood, and now Toop has heard that they are not her parents and has walked away to the edge of the landing stage, fragile and slender like a little angel, her orangey dress moving in the same direction as the rushes bend. Patricia picked up a broken-off willow branch from the shore and chased the swan across the grass, and the swan went cackling and spreading its wings wide and seemed almost as tall as her, it almost seemed as if they could have danced together or acted out a love scene on a sofa.