After that, my little niece made us some coffee, which the women thoroughly deserved, and Oscar was granted permission to let the funeral be arranged by one of his friends who, according to him, would do it at least as well and as cheaply as the next undertaker. “All right, all right, Oscar,” said my eldest sister with a tired gesture, as though she weren’t remotely interested in the cost.

I could see our gathering was coming to an end, but didn’t want to be the first to leave, seeing as I’d been the last to arrive.

One of my sisters yawned, shed a few more tears, and then my brother put on his hat, shook hands with everyone once again and left.

“I think I’ll go with Karel,” I said.

Those were, I believe, the first words to come out of my mouth. They might give the impression that I went after him for his benefit. After all, even a doctor sometimes needs comforting, doesn’t he?

And that’s how I made my escape.

It was three o’clock when I was back in our bedroom, once again holding on to my foot and pulling off my first sock.

I was exhausted and, to avoid having to tell my wife everything, I just said the situation hadn’t changed.

As for the funeral, there’s not much to say. It went as expected, and I wouldn’t mention it – nor the whole business of Mother’s death – were it not for the fact that that’s how I met Mr Van Schoonbeke.

As is the custom, my brother, my brothers-in-law, four cousins and I formed a semicircle around the coffin before it was taken away. Then the more distant relatives, friends and acquaintances entered and went round shaking hands with each of us, whispering their condolences or looking us gravely in the eye. There were many people – far too many, I felt, because it lasted for ever.

My wife had put a band of black crêpe around my arm, because I’d agreed with my brother that we wouldn’t have a mourning suit made – it’s of so little use once the funeral is over. But that wretched armband must have been too loose, because it kept on slipping down. After every third or fourth handshake I had to pull it back up.

That’s when Mr Van Schoonbeke, a friend and also a patient of my brother’s, made his appearance. He did what everyone else had done, but with more style and modesty. A man of the world, that much was clear to me.

He accompanied us to the church and the cemetery, and when it was all over he entered one of the carriages with me and my brother. That’s where I was introduced to him, and he invited me to pay him a visit. And that’s what I did.

III