Could it be real? They would ask each other without ever really, of course, agreeing. They spoke on many occasions of the mysterious castle that supposedly stood in that village, of its gloomy towers. Of Rose’s mother, Julia, who not only tended to the tavern but also exchanged, in a grains shop, the coins that the trafficker, the mysterious Macaque, gave over to her husband the previous nights. The church was one of the few places where the town’s inhabitants could take refuge from the affront of academies. The reverend was not qualified to celebrate mass, but he could rally the parishioners with his songs. He always wore a brown shirt with a priest’s collar. Rose Plinianson sat down on one of her favorite benches. The sea breeze entered through one of the windows. The sun fell mostly on the aisle and the walls to the right. A part of the altar remained in shadow. The reverend had a habit of spinning in the church from dawn until the final afternoon hours. When he saw Rose Plinianson, dressed in habit, he could not hold back an amazed expression. He approached her and kissed one of the fabric’s edges. The sound of the academies became almost imperceptible in these moments. After a few minutes the reverend went towards the altar. The eggs that I have just put on the stove should be ready, he said as he went in through a small door beneath the central crucifixion. Shortly after he came back with a plate of boiled eggs. He offered one to Rose Plinianson, who declined with a gesture. The reverend lived only on eggs cooked this way. At this point, again, the story is interrupted. It is the second time that such an evident break occurs. The first was when Jacob Pliniak was still running his tavern back in the border region, and he is suddenly seen working for some shopkeepers who years back he had helped cross the border. It is thought that today’s missing book passages were present in the original version. They were turned in to the editor’s by the English investigator immediately following Joseph Roth’s death. Nonetheless, Henriette Wolf, the reader contracted back then by the Stroemfeld publishing house, purloined several fragments without anyone understanding, until now, the reasons for such an act. Therefore, the only thing we have today is the following passage, which describes how after seeing the reverend offer a boiled egg, the text moves, without any mediation, to reintroducing Rose Plinianson’s shed equipped for dancing lessons. It is found lit by some torches soaked in alcohol. The insects, which are allegedly a plague in one version of the tale, have here disappeared entirely. It is not the first time that the reverend is found present in that place. On entering, he recognized the cramped quarters where forty years prior his family’s still was set up. In its place, the artist was now seated in front of his easel, contracted to paint the scenes. Likewise we see, on a table, the record player Rose Plinianson had rescued from her house’s basement. The room stays quiet. The distant sound of the academies could only be heard as a vague murmur. The artist did not make the slightest movement. A few records piled up on the floor. The reverend drew closer to see what type of music they contained. They were classical symphonies. He hated those compositions. In that instant, from a place not seen, almost as if it had appeared out of nowhere, the voice of Rose Plinianson emerged, requesting that the discs be played. The reverend seemed to avoid using the device. From the darkness, the voice Rose Plinianson insisted. The artist never interrupted his stillness. His outline defined, the shadow his head projected was somewhat elongated. His gaze did not fix on any point. For some time, that man frequented the church quite often. He tended to sit in a spot close to the altar. He had come to the town with a group of workers that were entrusted with the task of converting the houses into academies. Upon seeing him, the foreman flew into a fit of rage. It couldn’t be that the contracting company had sent a man like this as a worker — he was missing his left arm. Before dismissing him from the group, he spat on the ground with disdain.