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The
place
was
withdrawn
and
peaceful
.
No
one
else
came
in
,
though
occasionally
a
figure
would
shuffle
past
the
railings
at
the
entrance
.
I
threw
some
crumbs
to
a
few
sparrows
,
the
first
birds
I
had
seen
that
day
,
and
felt
all
the
better
for
watching
their
perky
indifference
to
calamity
.
When
I
had
finished
eating
I
lit
a
cigarette
.
While
I
sat
there
smoking
it
,
wondering
where
I
should
go
and
what
I
should
do
,
the
quiet
was
broken
by
the
sound
of
a
piano
played
somewhere
in
a
block
of
apartments
that
overlooked
the
garden
.
Presently
a
girl
’
s
voice
began
to
sing
.
The
song
was
Byron
’
s
ballad
:
So
we
’
ll
go
no
more
a
-
roving
So
late
into
the
night
,
Though
the
heart
be
still
as
loving
,
And
the
moon
be
still
as
bright
.
For
the
sword
outwears
its
sheath
,
And
the
soul
wears
out
the
breast
.
And
the
heart
must
pause
to
breathe
,
And
love
itself
have
rest
.
