But Gurdweill’s rage had already subsided. ‘Let the idiot talk as much rubbish as he likes! What difference does it make to me?’ he said to himself, forcing a smile to his lips. And as if to punish himself for losing his temper, he added, ‘It can’t do any harm to hear what else he has to say …’

‘As far as the story itself is concerned,’ continued Dr Kreindel in the same calm tone and with the same satisfied smile, ‘the conception, the sequence and ordering of events — do I have to sing their praises to you? You know yourself that they’re first-rate, above criticism, hee-hee! And as Klopstok says: What the artist himself says about his work is … et cetera. The hand of a true artist is evident throughout. In me, my dear Gurdweill, you have a devoted reader! A reader who pores over every letter and never misses a thing! That’s the kind of reader you need, hee-hee-hee … In other words, a reader whose mind and spirit match yours, a twin brother like me who can understand what you’re trying to say! And you don’t have to look far for that reader, not at all: here he is, sitting and talking to you! However far you looked, you wouldn’t find another like me. And why bother to look? We both know that nobody needs more than the one right reader. And him you already have in me, and in me only, hee-hee-hee … And if I’m mistaken, you’ve already said yourself, my dear Herr Gurdweill, in this very story: Only man, man the creator, gives things their value … et cetera. A fine phrase, eh? A pearl, hee-hee-hee!’

Gurdweill suddenly burst into loud, wild laughter, and Dr Kreindel joined in immediately, as if this were the signal for which he had been waiting.

‘Excellent, excellent!’ exclaimed the bookseller in the midst of his laughter.

‘Herr Doktor,’ said Gurdweill at last, ‘since we’re twin brothers, you should offer me a good cigar. I’m surprised you haven’t yet realised that I, too, would enjoy one of your cigars.’