It was a hot summer morning. The sun blazed in the garden, jumping with its bunnies on the leaves of apple trees, which should soon bear fruit. The nightingales sang in a flood, and a light wind leaned one of the branches of the apple tree against the window of the house. Our hero lives in this modest house. He has already woken up, opened the curtains and is now doing exercises. It's very ugly to spy on others, but I'm s...