While she is watching, then, Ilde may glimpse a gentleman on the shore, his silhouette tall and slim, his shoes in the grass a few strides beyond the pedestrian path. While one hand rests in the pocket of his overcoat, the other lifts to his face—and yes, there's the little telltale glow, the slow unfurling and dissipation of smoke into the night air.

Naturally, he hasn't noticed her—he's not even looking for her, in fact, as he waits there. The gaze that drifts across the water, the undulating reflections and the city's lights beyond, is without focus. He's somewhere else.