midday
Guinea fowl scattered silently . Nothing was heard from inside the grounds , not even the ubiquitous mule 's bell ... . Were it not for white curtains at the windows and smoke rising from the roof , the place could have been deserted . Yesterday , around midday , I was walking back from the village , by the walls of the farm in the shade of the old nettle trees , when I saw some farm-hands quietly finishing loading a hay wain on the road in front of the farm . The gate had been left open and discovered a tall , white-haired , old man at the back of the yard , with his elbows on a large stone table , and his head in his hands . He was wearing an ill-fitting jacket and tattered trousers ... . The sight of him stopped me in my tracks .