“They are far more timely than is acknowledged by skeptics who have lost touch with living experience and self-knowledge!” her chance companion replied with bitter satisfaction. “The deep truths of life are not arrived at through debate, as Plato already said; man hears them as the living exegesis and fulfillment of himself! Believe me, what makes man truly free, and what robs him of his freedom, what gives him true felicity, and what destroys it: this is not subject to progress, every person with an honest conscience knows this in his heart, if he will but listen!”

The words “living exegesis” appealed to Agathe, but now an unexpected thought occurred to her: “Are you by any chance religious?” she asked. She looked at him with curiosity. He did not answer. “You don’t happen to be a priest?!” she continued, but was reassured by his beard, for the rest of his appearance suddenly seemed capable of delivering such a surprise. It must be said to her credit that she would not have been more astounded if the stranger had casually referred to “our sublime ruler, the divine Augustus”: she knew that religion plays a great role in politics, but one is so used to not taking seriously the ideas that serve public discourse that to expect the religious parties to consist of believers can seem as far-fetched as it would be to require of a mail clerk that he be a philatelist.

After a long, somehow vacillating pause the stranger replied: “I would rather not answer your question; you are too far removed from all this.”

But Agathe had been seized by a lively desire. “Now I want to know who you are!” she demanded, and that was of course a feminine privilege that could not be flatly denied. Again the stranger showed the same somewhat comical insecurity as before, when he had has­tened to make good his failure to salute her properly; he appeared to be feeling an itch in his hand to lift his hat again, but then something stiffened in him; one mental army seemed to be battling another until it finally won.

“My name is Lindner and I am a teacher at the Franz-Ferdinand-Gymnasium,” he said. After a moment’s reflection he added: “I also lecture at the university.”

“Then perhaps you know my brother?” Agathe asked eagerly and went on to give him Ulrich’s name. “If I’m not mistaken, he recently gave a lecture at the Pedagogical Society on mathematics and the humanities, or something like that.”

“I know who he is. And yes, I attended that lecture,” Lindner admitted. Agathe thought this answer involved some rejection, but she forgot it in the course of what followed:

“Your father was the well-known lawyer?” Lindner asked.

“Yes, he died recently, and I am now staying with my brother,” Agathe said blithely. “Wouldn’t you like to come and see us sometime?”

“I’m afraid I have no time for social calls,” Lindner replied brusquely, his eyes downcast in evident unease.