He stroked her hair and left his hand lying on her shoulder.
“That’s nice,” she said.
Cordt looked at her hair and stroked it again. She closed her eyes and nestled up against him:
“It is so quiet here,” she said. “Now I will go to sleep.”
But then she grew restless again. She half raised herself and lay on her knees, with her hands folded in her lap. Her hair had become undone and slipped down over her shoulders. Her eyes stared into the fire:
“You used to tell me that your mother undressed you every night when you were a little boy,” she said. “And every morning she dressed you ... always.”
“So she did.”
“You said that it so often made her late when she was going to the theatre ... or else she would get up from the table when there were guests. And your father used to be so angry with her.”
He nodded.