The walls had been painted white since then, with a frieze of gold along the ceiling.
My father used to sleep in the room directly under it.

Rayel had been silent and absent-minded all the evening, rarely speaking except in reply to some question.
"I feel sad for some cause I do not understand," said he, preparing to retire.

"I shall be glad when to-morrow comes." "We will go back in the morning," I said.

"You don't feel at home here, do you ?" He did not seem to hear me, but tried the door, which I had already bolted, and then got into bed, yawning and shivering, for the room was cold.

I turned down the light, and, opening the shutters, looked out upon the street, now deserted save by a solitary man who had just passed the house and whose slow footsteps were gradually growing less distinct.
I crouched there, listening for some moments to that fading sound, when it began to grow louder again.