The rain had stopped and the sunlight, tempered by the translucent curtains, shone into the spacious dining room. A man, seated at the head of the table, a woman, and three small girls were eating their dessert in silence. It was a heavy silence. To the father’s right, there was an empty chair, a half-eaten pastry.
“You’re a liar,” the father had said. The son had glanced up at him without saying anything. Black hairs stuck out of the man’s nostrils. He looked at the child almost scornfully. Not allowing himself to cry, the boy had left the table and gone to his room. He lay down on the bed and opened a book, hoping to lose himself in its pages.
Somewhat later he stood up and looked into the mirror. For some time now his face had begun to please him. His lips, which had always struck him as being too thick, now seemed to suggest an expression of strength and humor. He had brown eyes that, half shut under the dark brows, were like those of a man. He combed his hair and stepped out into the corridor. Softly he went down the stairs and into the garden, using the back door.