It was a moist and clear night. The lilac was already in blossom; Beetius stretched his starry arms across the sky; it was quiet but for the distant barking of a dog. Something white was leaning against the stone wall in the garden. Of course it was Annie.
“It’s a beautiful night,” he remarked, in order to say something, and leant against the wall next to her. Annie said nothing but only turned her face away and her shoulders trembled in an anxious and unaccustomed manner.
“That’s Beetius,” said Prokop hoarsely. “And above it . . . the Dragon and Cepheus, and over there is Cassiopeia, those four stars together. But you must look higher.”
Annie turned away from him and rubbed something away near her eyes. “There, where it’s clear,” said Prokop hesitatingly, “is Pollux, one of the twins. You mustn’t be angry with me. Maybe I was a bit rough with you, eh? I’m . . . something was worrying me, you see? You mustn’t take it to heart.”
Annie sobbed loudly. “And what’s . . . that one over there?” she said in a quiet, timid voice. “The brightest one of all, low down.”
“That’s Sirius, in the Great Dog. They also call it Alhaboa. And there right away to the left are Arcturus and Spica. There’s a falling star. Did you see it?”
“Yes. Why were you so angry with me this morning?”
“I wasn’t. I’m perhaps . . . sometimes . . . a bit crude; but I’ve had a hard life you know,
