30

This library seemed dark last time, but now there was normal light from the lamps in the ceiling. It was clear that this was a rather spacious hall, connected by an arch to the next one, and then to another one - it was not known where these rows of shelves with books, folders and individual sheets in files stretched.

A middle-aged woman librarian, with blond hair tied in a bun, in a strict skirt just below the knees and in a blue blouse, climbed down the ladder, carefully stepping on the floor with her feet in shoes with low heels. She smiled at me, I smiled too.

“I wanted to take you something for tea, like cookies and jam, but somehow it turned out that I came without everything,” I said guiltily.

“If you wanted, you brought it,” she said. And on a small low table appeared a jar of some dark jam and a plate of cookies. She reached behind a nearby rack and pulled out a boiling electric kettle.

She poured boiling water into transparent faceted glasses in copper coasters, where the bl
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