Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. We’ve deserted the posts in which we found ourselves, cut our duties, exposed ourselves to risks that may destroy any sort of social usefulness in us. Understand me! I forbid it. She stuffed her violin in its case and rushed into the hallway towards John, who stood outside of 118 with his arms crossed. ‘Espéce de diable,’ she screamed. John was ecstatic to hear that she had made the coveted first chair position in Orchestra. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears.
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