‘Why don’t you mind your own business, Gurdweill?’ Lotte snapped irritably in a sudden change of mood, and pulled her hand away. ‘It’s got nothing to do with you! What rudeness, interfering in other people’s affairs …’ And turning to Dr Astel as if she were addressing him alone: ‘Come on, I’m thirsty. Let’s go into the café.’

‘But we can’t leave Gurdweill on his own,’ said Dr Astel with a coaxing smile.

‘It makes no difference to me. He can come with us or go wherever he likes.’

Gurdweill smiled to himself and made no reply. ‘There’s no point in taking any notice,’ he said to himself. ‘Women will be women.’

After he had taken a few steps back along the boulevard, Lotte announced: ‘Actually, I’m not so thirsty after all. Perhaps we should walk a little longer and then have something to drink. What do you think?’

And they strolled back the way they had come. She asked Dr Astel for a cigarette, lit it, and blew out long wisps of smoke. As she did so, her full lips rounded into a little circle, adding a particular charm to her fresh, pretty face. She held the cigarette expertly between her third finger and her little finger, and puffed on it without a pause. Suddenly she grew sick of it and threw it far away. She smiled at Gurdweill, who was walking on her right.

‘You aren’t angry with me, are you, Gurdweill? About what happened before, I mean. Please don’t be cross. Let’s be friends again. Please, please,’ she clapped her hands like a little girl, ‘don’t be cross! Tell him not to be cross, Astel!’

‘But who said I was cross?’ Gurdweill laughed. ‘I’m not in the least.’

‘Really and truly not? I’m delighted to hear it! What do you say, children — why don’t we go to the Wurstelprater?’ But the minute she saw their reluctant faces she changed her mind, and they went on strolling as before. After a while they sat down on a bench.

A train crossed the bridge over the boulevard, invisible from where they sat, chugging and puffing and panting like a chorus of asthma sufferers. It left a palpable silence behind it. Behind the still, bare trees, the blood-red orb of the exhausted sun appeared and disappeared. An invisible swallow, too, chirped a few times and fell silent. There was already a slight chill in the air as evening approached.

The three of them sat in silence. Dr Astel seemed in a bad mood today: he hardly spoke, which was very unlike him. Lotte leaned her head against his shoulder and played with her bag, which was made of rough snake-skin. In the end she jumped up.

‘What’s the matter with the pair of you today? You’re boring me to tears!’