Under the cover of the willow he looked up at her flat. It was still too bright to expect a light to go on inside. Nor did she come to the window to look down at the square. But the front door finally opened and she emerged onto the street. She wore the dress she had held up in front of a mirror in one of the boutiques. Under her arm, she carried the figurine. She waved to someone on the terrace. She crossed the street towards him and passed him and the willow and walked down the street in the direction she had just come.

Used Goods was written on the sign over the shop door, Gold and Silver, Bought and Sold.

Wine glasses and vases and chandeliers filled the shop window. Tableware and cutlery. Behind them, in the shop itself, were tables and cupboards and display cabinets with glasses, goblets and mirrors. Rhinoceroses and elephants. Flower vases and crosses, a Madonna, rosaries and belts.

He scanned the names listed at the entrance to her building and pressed several buttons. The entry buzzer sounded without anyone asking his name. His hand on the railing, he climbed the stairs. On the ground floor, a dog started barking. A door opened and closed again.

The key to her flat lay in a box used for newspapers.

He had smelled fresh paint from the landing. The flat had been repainted. But the pictures on the walls, the dresser, the wardrobe and the mask above it, and the chest of drawers in the hallway with the telephone and the photographs on the wall behind it, and all the drawings, the figurines – they all seemed to be in their places.

The answering machine showed three new messages. He briefly ran his finger over the flashing light. The courtyard with its lime tree opened on to a park. The sparrows took dirt baths in the hollows they had formed. The wind swayed the swing that she had often watched from her window.