in his apartment. They drunk cognac, the stuffiness somewhat crushed the guests, Karat noticed how Sargel had more wrinkles on his forehead, how often his thin lips began to tighten, how he spoke less and less, because Malika was getting more and more cheerful. He did not follow how much his young wife drank; he was not interested. Whilst hiding the fact, he admired her open character, her beautiful face, on which a passionate blush always smouldered, eyes black as a currant berry sparkled, piercing through a person with a magical mysterious light. But, noticing Sargel’s inner tension, Karatai tried to answer Malika’s playful questions indifferently, calmly and coolly. This attitude towards the wife soon bore fruit. Sargel, like a sleepy child, carefully looked around, came to life and began to join in on the jokes and table conversations. Karatai was delighted that at such an important moment for Bagila, his relative and friend liked him, he was able to stop Malika’s fun and direct the feast in the right direction for Sargel. Malika, noticing how tired Bagila looked, took her away from the table to a separate room. The two sons of Sargel used to live in this room. Now it was empty. The windows were curtained with light yellow silk curtains, and in the right corner, near a folding soft sofa, stood a yellowish floor lamp, matching the colour of the curtains. Imported bookshelves lined the opposite wall in two rows, with a stuffed deer head gathering dust above them. His glassy eyes, that gleaming from the yellowish light of the floor lamp, looked sad and reproachfully assessed everything that was happening in the small desolate world of this apartment. The head didn’t know and didn’t seem to want to know who shot it and why they did, or where it’s body had gone, why it hung here, on the wall of the capital’s apartment. Now the most important thing for these yellow eyes was to look at the owners of the apartment, to see how they live, how they tortured each other. “If you want, you can open the window,” said Malika. “It’s quiet on this side, there are no cars. Well, get settled. This room will be yours. Here are some modern records. You can play any of them if you want. Don’t be shy, make yourself at home. I love open people. We will still
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