Sunlit oak tree

Irene sat and continuously looked out the window and, holding the telephone receiver with her shoulder, spoke to Hilda that she had left for Rome. The conversation turned out to be boring, and Irene waited for Augustine to arrive. “Hilda, I don’t understand.” If you don’t like the heat, why did you go to Italy? A long exhalation was heard at the other end of the line. — Well, how can I explain it to you… To just run away from my husband — I’m so tired of him. You know, Irene, there are days when the person you love becomes unbearable, not because he is bad, but because you get tired of his eternal presence in your field, and then all you need is to run away for a couple days away from him so as not to start hating him. “Well, yes, you’re right,” Irene sadly stated the fact. — Tell me, is your handsome driver, who brought you to your birthday party, free? Irene was taken aback by the unexpected question, took the phone in her hand, and at that very time Augustine arrived and got out of the car. — Why are you asking? It seems like you and I have different tastes in men. Well, if I remember correctly. Or have I developed sclerosis? — Well, you know, I’m so fickle — I never know when my taste will change to the completely opposite. Irene rolled her eyes and leaned her elbows on the back of the chair. — You are incorrigible. I don’t know about his personal life. — So you fell for him yourself? — the interlocutor reacted with lightning speed. “Hilda, I can’t tell you anything about this, and it’s time for me to go.” Let’s talk later. Irene hung up. Augustine stood near the car, and the governess from below shouted that the driver had arrived — it was time to go. Arthur left, which meant she could do whatever she wanted. True, it is unclear for how long. He was supposed to land in Austria today. He’ll be gone for two weeks, which means she can take a break from his intrusive presence. *** Irene was driving home through the evening city. How long had it been since she had gone out, feeling like she could breathe freely, and she didn’t have to arrive home by a certain hour. She was carrying a couple of books and some paints for the easel. Augustine was quietly turning into her street when Irene told him not to take her home. — Where should I take you then? The girl thought about it. — Augustine, take me to Alex. I want to see him. I want to have fun with you today, just like that evening, remember? Augustine pulled up outside her house. — Irene, my husband will worry. — My husband is not at home — he left Germany for Austria this morning. Well, please, Augustine, please! “But I don’t know what Alex’s business is today.” “Irene put the books down from her hands and clapped her hands joyfully. “Irene, I didn’t say yes.” — Who cares? Trust me, Alex loves parties more than anything else. — How will I know? “You can come to our house and call him, while I go and change clothes.” Augustine sighed — Irene, like Agnes, was an incorrigible party girl and had an inexhaustible supply of energy. Augustine gave in. In the end, let Irene have fun, and Alex is unlikely to mind. She turned out to be right — her friend was simply delighted that they could see each other again. How many years have passed… Alex and Agnes were going to the theater, but now he won’t go with her to “Hamlet”, but she will go with him to the party. *** Late evening crept into the city, the lanterns were lit, and the shopkeepers closed their stalls; people were rushing home, the lines for groceries gradually became smaller. Irene went with Augustine to see Alex, who was eagerly waiting for them in his apartment. The girl’s mood was cheerful, she hummed something under her breath, looking around every now and then. Augustine drove the car calmly, he did not have such an exciting mood, unlike his companion, and he simply drove them. — Augustine, you can’t even imagine how happy I am! He rolled his eyes. — Well, I can imagine. You haven’t seen him since the last time you were at his birthday party, have you? The girl nodded, and Augustine slowed down the car. — I remember that time we also had fun all night, and the champagne flowed like a river… Do you remember our dances to jazz? “Yes, I remember,” said Augustine, walking with Irene to Alex’s house. “You could still listen to them back then.” — Augustine himself was overcome by melancholy and memories of the past. — Yes… do you remember that box of champagne? Where did Alex get it from? — I don’t remember, somewhere under the counter — most likely, from someone wealthy. Irene sighed. “Yes, there were times…” Augustine glanced sideways at her. Irene shrugged without answering. The owner of the house greeted them with a lot of goodies and alcohol. Seeing the guests on the threshold, he shook hands with Augustine and hugged Irene in joy. Agnes also said hello, peeking around the corner. Augustine was pleasantly surprised by his sister’s arrival, but from Alex’s look he realized that he wanted to become related to his friend. — Irene, I’m so glad you came! When Augustine called me and told me about your proposal, I immediately realized that I needed to drop everything and invite you to visit. “I myself was very glad that we finally saw each other.” You’re still just as handsome. “Irene pushed him in the chest. — Oh, don’t tell me the whole truth, otherwise I’ll become arrogant. Irene laughed. The evening was fun, in their best traditions. Agnes and Irene danced and drank a lot, Alex, as usual, made a lot of stupid but funny jokes. Augustine chatted incessantly in toasts to their meeting. It was clear from Irene that she had missed such fun for a long time, because she had not felt so free and happy for a very long time. In the middle of the evening, Alex suddenly asked if she missed Augustine and him. — Oh yeah. I missed you, I still miss Munich, the stage and those long walks, I miss your laughter and the way we had fun as a group. All this time I remembered you and Augustine and all this time I could not get rid of the thought of whether you continued to be friends or not. You know, these years were different for everyone — some lost a lot, others gained a lot. “She said quickly, pouring another glass into herself. — It’s always like that, Irene. When someone decides to change the world, he is faced with the fact that we are all different, and it is impossible to convince a person who loves white that black is much better. If you want a person to agree with you, take away his white, and then he will have nothing left except to say that black is the best. “You say that as if you’ve lost something, Alex!” — she said half-jokingly. — Well, you know, I only recently found out that, it turns out, out of our entire company, only you and I remained free or in this world at all. Irene immediately stopped smiling. — How? — Like this. — Alex shrugged. “So have fun, Irene, just be happy.” Alex walked over to Augustine and poured him more champagne. They had fun until the morning. Alex drank too much, but he was at home, and Agnes put him to bed, because he himself did not want to end the party; she herself went to her home, realizing that no matter how great a time they had, they definitely needed to come to their senses at least a little before the new working day. *** Irene walked barefoot down the hallway in her mansion. She was in high spirits. After she married Arthur, he occasionally took her to boring, grueling balls. Irene always could not find a place for herself at such official events and always waited for them to go home. Another thing is a party with friends. When Irene first came home, she didn’t even pay attention to the suitcases standing in the corners. Waving her hand, she went up the stairs, went into her room and, lying down on the bed, saw Arthur’s jacket. Having suddenly sobered up, Irene realized that something was wrong here. — And where have you been? “Arthur’s cold, distant voice coming from behind her pierced her heart. “Arthur…” The girl stood up on the bed and turned to face him. — What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you have gone to Austria? “I came so I quickly finished my work.” — He slowly approached her and sat down on the bed; Irene crawled away, frantically turning over all her thoughts in her head. “Do you want to tell me where you’ve been all night?” — I was at a party. I can’t? — Irene answered him with the same coin that he gave to her. — Why? Can. And who were you with? — Arthur didn’t even blink — he devoured her point-blank with his gaze. — With Hilda. Augustine drove me. “Irene felt and saw how Arthur was losing his temper before her eyes: the veins on his forehead and neck were swelling, as if he was turning into a bloodthirsty animal. — Hilda is in Rome, I found out where she is. “Irene realized that she was finished. Jokes aside, she didn’t want to experience the hurricane power of her husband’s rage. — I was with another Hilda, with my sister. Do not you remember? She was at our wedding. — No, I do not remember. — Arthur became even blacker and blacker. — Because you were drunk. Arthur hit Irene in the face with all his might. Her right cheek was on fire. — You’re lying to me! You were with someone else. Really with these friends of yours? Or were you with the driver? — Irene was silent; Arthur roughly turned her face towards him. — Augustine, that means… Irene, I’m starting to regret that I allowed you to communicate at all. He slowly took her shoulders and pressed his hands on them. Irene felt fear; the house is empty — there are no servants. If he beats her now, she won’t even be able to call anyone for help. Meanwhile, Arthur continued to say something to her, but Irene did not hear anything, she only felt the pain that closed on her shoulders. Her ears were ringing from her husband’s screams, and Arthur’s rage began to turn into rage. Irene couldn’t do this anymore, she took the decanter of water that was on her table and hit Arthur on the head with all her might. He stepped back. Blood poured from small wounds on his head, he lay down, stunned, on the edge of the bed, and Irene, without wasting time, took the lamp and hit him on the head again. Rage washed over her—she didn’t stop until the scales fell from her eyes. She beat Arthur until she realized that he was no longer moving. Having slightly come to her senses, she sat down on the bed from powerlessness and, seeing the blood, realized that she had killed him. She killed her own husband in their bedroom. Her hands were stained with blood; She hurried to the phone and dialed Augustine’s number. The voice on the other end was quiet and calm. Irene pulled herself together as best she could and asked Augustine to come; When asked what happened, she did not answer and hung up. In the mirror she saw the reflection of Arthur’s corpse lying on the bed. She laid down a sheet to prevent the blood from completely soaking the bed. She waited nervously for Augustine. The minutes seemed like an eternity. *** There was deathly silence at home; you could hear the clock ticking. Irene sat and waited — the servants would come in an hour. She was suddenly overcome with horror from the sight of Arthur’s corpse. Realizing what now awaited her, Irene became hysterical. Emotions took over, tears began to flow, the blood on her hands dried, tightening her skin, and this made her feel even worse. Footsteps were heard up the stairs. Augustine began to shout — Irene responded. Running into their bedroom, Augustine slowed down a little when he saw Arthur wrapped in a sheet on the bed, bleeding. — Irene, what happened? “He ran up to the girl, looking at her bloody hands. — What happened to you? “I killed him, Augustine…” Irene looked at him with tear-stained eyes. — How long ago? — He took his breath away — the already familiar smell of blood began to fill the room; something needs to be done urgently. It was early, and Augustine stood up and walked over to the corpse. — Recently. I called you right away. Augustine was thinking — this means no more than fifteen minutes ago. — Irene, get up now and dry your hands. What did you use to kill him? — Augustine looked at the fragments under his feet. — First with a glass decanter, and then with this. “She pointed to the vase covered in blood. Irene stood up and went to the bathtub to wash her hands. Her legs didn’t obey her at all. At this time, Augustine threw another sheet that was lying on the bed over Arthur. The blood still wouldn’t stop flowing and it would be difficult to wipe it off the floor. Augustine removed the pillowcase from the pillow, stuffing large fragments and the lamp into it. “Irene,” he approached the girl, “does anyone know about his arrival?” — The girl shook her head. — No, there are no servants at home. He just arrived today — his suitcases are downstairs, near the door that leads to the backyard. Maybe he came from the other side. “Okay, I’ll drive the car there now and we’ll remove the body along with the vase.” Will you help me? The main thing is don’t worry. Irene shook her head. — I’ll go change. — Augustine nodded, giving the go-ahead. *** Together they dragged Arthur down to the backyard. Irene carried a vase and suitcases. They loaded Arthur’s cold body into the trunk and hurried away. Augustine was calm, driving the car smoothly. There were almost no cars on the road — the highway leading out of the city was clear, which undoubtedly made us happy. Irene, sitting on pins and needles, constantly looked around, it always seemed to her that Arthur was sitting behind her. She knew he was dead, but the feeling that something would happen, that he was here somewhere and he was still watching, haunted her. Having reached the nearest forest, Augustine took a shovel out of the trunk and began to dig, and Irene began to help him with all her might. Finally they threw the body into the grave, and Irene threw the murder weapons there too. For about five minutes Irene stood and watched as Augustine covered her now ex-husband with earth, and then began to help him again. The way back took a little longer, and all this time Irene was tirelessly thinking about life. — Augustine, where are we going to put our things? “We will burn them as soon as darkness comes in the evening.” It’s not safe to burn now. — What if they find the body? What Augustine wanted now was just silence. His head was already filled with various questions and experiences. — No, Irene, Arthur left for two weeks, no one will look for him now. Damn, and then I don’t know what the right thing to do is. “You don’t know what you’re going to do?” “Irene looked at him worriedly. — I will think. Go home and change your bed, meet me at eight o’clock, I’ll pick you up. Irene nodded and got out of the car. Augustine watched her anxiously. The shadow of murder fell over both of them. But Augustine was ready to take the blame if it would help Irene. He may become a murderer, but in her eyes he will be the prince who saved her from the villain.