text: > look around
  This was the village's connection with the outside world. The walls were plastered and whitewashed to brighten the room, but this instead created an air of impersonal detachment.
  
  One side of the room was taken up by a long desk, on which sat a telegraph machine. The other side was stocked with newspapers. In the back, beyond the telegraph, a shadowy doorway opened onto a flight of stairs leading up.
  
  Maurice Roget sat near the telegraph, reading a newspaper and generally ignoring everything else.
  
  > examine the telegraph
  The telegraph machine was, to my eyes at least, a rather strange contraption with wires all over the place. I had no idea how it worked, but I did know that it was a means for me to communicate with the people back home in Barchester.
  
  > read the newspaper
  (the English newspapers)
  I was pleased to note that a selection of English newspapers was available. The selection was not particularly extensive, however, and I doubted if there was anything of importance to be gleaned from them at the moment. Maurice Roget was reading one of them, as a matter of fact, and seemed quite absorbed in it.
  
  > take the newspaper
  (the English newspapers)
  That would have been unnecessary. Emma would no doubt have a copy of that paper waiting for me back at the vicarage, and a few days' delay was not going to make much of a difference on what I did or did not know about the world.
  
  > Go south
  This wide cobblestone square marked the heart of the little village. A large well stood in its centre, obviously the focal point of local day-to-day life. To the east stood the church of St Pierre, a small grey stone building with its doors invitingly open. A salt breeze blew from the pier to the west, and the cobbles continued southwards to an open terrace and the village inn. The north side was lined with commercial buildings, including a telegraph office.
  
  > ask John about Maurice
  "He's a jolly fellow, and so full of life. He's always asking me to join him for a few drinks at the inn. I hate having to turn him down time after time, but that sort of luxury is really somewhat beyond my means at the moment."
  
  > ask John about the job
  "I never did have much of a head for business. It's one of the reasons I took to art instead. I could do some odd jobs and assort menial work, though, if I had to. But not on a long-term scale, I hope."
  
  > ask John about the money
  "I had a small inheritance that allowed me to pursue my artistic interests. I tried to make it last as long as possible, of course, but funds are getting low. I'm almost all out now, and I don't know if anyone would even look at my work. I guess it's what you'd call a bad investment."
  
  > Paint
  What did I want John Austin to paint?
  
  > paint Klara
  John shook his head. "I'd rather not, really."
  
  > Paint konstanza
  John glanced out of the window and paused for a long moment. "Yes ... she is quite the beauty, isn't she?" he murmured as he began a pencil sketch of Konstanza Von Goethe as seen through the window.
  
  > buy the sketch
  Nothing was on sale.
  
  > look at the sketch
  A thoroughly unremarkable sketchbook, of cheap paper and cheaper cardboard binding. It was filled with pencil and charcoal sketches of scenery, animals, and people.
  
  The last sketch was a lovely pencil drawing of Konstanza Von Goethe wandering in the peaceful churchyard, framed by the twisted yew trees.
  
  > take sketch
  That seemed to belong to John Austin.
  
  > give the sketch to you
  John shrugged as he handed me his sketchbook. "You want to look at my old sketches? Certainly, if that is what you want. You probably won't find much of interest, I'm afraid."
  
  > take the sketch
  I already had that.
  
  > go west
  I stopped, thinking it would probably be best if I returned John Austin's sketchbook to him before leaving.
  
  > search the sketchbook
  The name "John Austin" was signed at the bottom of each sketch, along with the date.
  
  > ask John about the sketchbook
  John blushed somewhat embarrassedly. "It's not much, is it?"
  
  > pay John
  Whom did I want to pay John Austin to?
  
  > give the sketchbook to John
  John smiled wryly as he took back his sketchbook. "Not much, is it?"
  
  > tell Viktor about the sketch
  Herr Goethe listened politely, but had little to add.
  
  > tell Viktor about John
  "If this Herr Austin wants to paint my daughter, he is quite welcome. If, of course, she consents."
  
  > tell Konstanza about the sketch
  "Herr Dawson, please, I do not feel like speaking with you ... or anyone ... right now."
  
  > apologize
  Whom did I want to apologize to?
  
  > apologize to Konstanza
  Konstanza glanced at me and relented. "Very well then. Let us forget that it ever happened."
  
  > tell Konstanza about John
  "The two of you must enjoy being able to talk about English politics with each other. I always think it is nice to meet a fellow countryman when one is abroad."
  
  > Go west
  The cobbles from the north widened out here into a terrace outside the inn to the south. A low stone wall to the west overlooked the beach some twenty feet below. Hugging the wall, a steep and narrow flight of stone steps led down to the sand. Opposite, another high wall defined the eastern side of the terrace, broken only by a small wrought-iron gate.
  
  > ask Konstanza about John
  "I've seen him around. I have not spoken to him as yet, but he seems to be a gentleman. Even if he is covered in paint.
  
  > show the sketch to  Konstanza
  John looked doubtful, and shook his head. "To tell the truth, I'd really rather not."
  
  > give the book to you
  John shrugged as he handed me his sketchbook. "You want to look at my old sketches? Certainly, if that is what you want. You probably won't find much of interest, I'm afraid."