Trevison koru-ompelijatar

On the third consecutive day of rain the estate’s gardens have turned to streams, yet the grand five‑window salon remains alive with laughter, clinking glasses and idle chatter. A circle of guests—an eager professor of meteorology, his wife quietly painting lilies, Helena bent over a chessboard, Anna soothing a baby, and others—maintain a fragile cheer despite the relentless downpour. When the professor announces that mercury has fallen lower than ever recorded, the lighthearted mood flickers, hinting that the weather may be more than a simple inconvenience.

In the corner, a middle‑aged gentleman moves almost mechanically, pausing at the chessboard, watching a painter’s brush, and gently touching a sleeping child’s forehead, his presence a quiet counterpoint to the lively discussions. Meanwhile, Eugenie returns from a brief kitchen trip, challenging the group with a cryptic question about a newly discovered manuscript that seems to echo the storm outside. The scene sets the stage for subtle intrigues and personal revelations that promise to unfold as the rain continues.