chat with you from the heart. In the meantime, I’ll go tend to the guests. Deal?” Bagila smiled and nodded to her hostess. The room was cool and dim. The noise of the feast, the clinking of dishes in the hall barely reached. She immediately noticed that after her departure everyone felt freer, and stung by this, she thought that there was absolutely no reason to sit for so long, drowning in tobacco smoke among unnecessary conversations. Bagila, sighing deeply in relief, sat down on the sofa, leaning back. Her gaze rested on the books that filled the shelves. All the books were brand new and clearly unread. She looked towards the door and walked over to the shelves. She took one of the books, read the title: “Aesthetics of Hellenism.” Opened it up. The pages crunched loudly, as if expressing dissatisfaction for the disturbance, and as she slowly opened, some pages would be stuck together in dozens. She listed through a few pages with her long fingernail and began to read at random. The letters were small, the words were written with tension. She skimmed through half a page quickly. Understood nothing. It simply did not reach her consciousness. She put the book back. Sat on the sofa. She mechanically raised her head and saw the dried head of a deer above her. His eyes were so large, as if open with terror. Bagila trembled all over, her heart went cold. She jumped up and quickly lit a large chandelier. The head was still looking at her, but now the eyes were shallow and cloudy. She, having calmed down, sat down in her place, but did not extinguish the chandelier. From road fatigue, table noise and her temple painfully pounding with blood, Bagila comfortably arranged a pillow that lay in the middle of the sofa, slowly and quietly, as if afraid to wake someone up, she lay down on it, carefully straightened her skirt with her hands, which slightly bared her knees, and covered her eyes. The sharp light of the chandelier, that was pointing straight down, straight into her face, quickly faded, subsiding and gradually went out completely. She slept for over an hour. The bright light falling from above, reflected from the light, yellow curtains of the window, and gently set off Bagila’s elusive swarthy face. Her swiftly arched eyebrows, very similar to the silhouette of a
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