Where the hell is that guy? According to the barometer, NOW is the right time to prune the grapes. Will just see you. He must be making out with the maid, the slotty. Fetting, I walk to the gazebo. As I cross the gravel path I see one of his gloves lying on the lawn. Follow the track — but there is no trace. Further on, I see the maid knocking her plumage out of my bedroom window. Do I see a shadow behind her? Stop with the imagination. In the distance I hear a scream of a crow. I turn my head in the direction of the noise and walk on. When I arrived at the gazebo, I see the gardener. “That's how you sit here. Were you pushing yourself again? “ 'This time I really had to print. '

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