And at last I step out into the morning and I lock the door be-hind me. I cross the road and drop the keys into the old lady's mailbox. And I look up the road, where a few people stand, men and women, waiting for the morning bus. They are very vivid be-neath the awakening sky, and the horizon beyond them is begin-ning to flame. The morning weighs on my shoulders with the dreadful weight of hope an4 I take the blue envelope which Jacques has sent me and tear it sl6wly into many pieces, watching them . .. . I dance in the wind, watchiμg the wind carry them away. Yet, as I turn and begin walking tovyard the waiting people, the wind blows some of them back on me. ]
With his time in front of the mirror done, he leaves to the cold outside world, where he finds the details for Giovanni's executio n in his mailbox. Having left behind his thoughts on Giovanni and himself, he tears it into pieces and throws it into the wind. Ho wever, just like how his problems still remain, pieces of the letter blow back onto him.
I've attached a picture that I believe illustrates the imagined scene of Giovanni's execution well.