midday
He leaned far back against the painted wall for a moment , with half-closed eyes . Then he drew nearer to his friend , so that he spoke close to the latter 's ear , though he looked down at the table before him . His nervous fingers played with the teaspoon in the saucer of his cup . It was a strange confession , there in the corner of the crowded café at midday , and those who glanced idly at the two men from a distance would hardly have guessed that an act in a mysterious life was before their eyes -- an act which was itself but a verbal recapitulation of many actions past , but which to the speaker had an enormous importance of its own , and an influence on the future of all concerned . Not much had been needed to break through the barrier of Bosio 's reticence . Walking through the streets that morning he had for a moment even thought of telling some of his story to Taquisara . It was far easier to tell it to the only true friend he had in the world , to one in whom he had confided as a boy and had trusted as a young man .