Box With Toys

     A few days had passed since the murder, when

Raskolnikov went up the stairs carefully and rang

the doorbell; I opened. “What do you want?” I asked,

“the box with the toys which I forgot” he said to me;

finally after many years it was my turn to ring the

doorbell; Mrs. Olga, not as young anymore, opened;

she had a beautiful voice contralto and during the nights

she sang as if throwing a bed-sheet over the old furniture;

she guided me to the big hall with the yellow upholstery

painted with birds ready to chirp, God willing, then

someone started narrating a story and we listened with

that innocent, omnipotent ungratefulness of children

when they rebuild the world.