It was evening.
A lighted lamp stood on the floor in Volodya’s room. Just behind it,
near the wall, sat Volodya and his mother. They were looking at the
wall and were making strange movements with their hands.
Shadows stirred and trembled upon the wall.
Volodya and his mother understood them. Both were smiling sadly and
were saying weird and impossible things to each other. Their faces were
peaceful and their eyes looked clear; their joyousness was hopelessly
sorrowful and their sorrow was wildly joyous.
In their eyes was a glimmer of madness, blessed madness.
The night was descending upon them.