It was growing dark and cold. They got up and started back. Gurdweill regretted having accompanied them. He could already taste in advance the feeling of futility, which invariably remained with him after a few hours spent in the society of others. It was a pity he hadn’t come by himself! As soon as they arrived at the tram stop, he would say goodbye.

But when they got there, he gave way to the temptation to drop in to the Third Café ‘for just a minute’, angry at his own weakness a moment later. His face took on a hard expression, and the lines at the sides of his mouth deepened.

They sat on the open terrace, which was slightly above ground level and which was almost empty. Gurdweill mechanically sipped his coffee, which seemed to him tasteless. His need to be alone, no matter what, suddenly became irresistible. He glanced at his watch and recoiled: damn, he had completely forgotten; he had an appointment he couldn’t miss at seven …

‘Wait a minute,’ said Lotte, ‘We’re all going in a minute.’ And with sincere regret: ‘What a shame you’re not free. I was going to ask you both to come and have tea at my place.’

‘You can come later, when you’re free,’ suggested Dr Astel.

No, he couldn’t promise anything. There was no knowing how long it would take …

Gurdweill took the tram with them to Franz-Josefs-Kai, where he got off after borrowing a small sum of money from Dr Astel.

The city was shrouded in a dull orange glow from the electric and gas lights. The streets were full of people, streaming out of the shops and businesses and hurrying home. Corrugated-iron shutters came down with a deafening crash. At the tram stop the newspaper sellers announced the headlines at the tops of their voices, running after the receding trams and pushing their rolled-up papers through the windows. Here and there a barmaid could be seen crossing the street with a tray full of glasses of beer from a nearby tavern.

The rush and hurry infected Gurdweill too, along with all these people who had just finished working the whole day long. Although he did not have anywhere in particular to go, he pushed through the crowds and squeezed onto one of the packed trams. With one foot on the platform and one in the air, his body plastered against the broad, sweaty back standing in front of him like a wall, he reached the Schottentor, where he got off. For some time he walked back and forth in front of the Vienna Banking Company building without knowing what to do next. In the end he got on a tram and rode back the way he had come and went home.

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