All at once the urge to tease him left her. She felt miserable, discontented. Everything suddenly seemed pointless, even sitting there with Gurdweill, who seemed a thousand miles away. His hollow face, too, seemed utterly strange to her, as if she had just set eyes on it for the first time in her life, and the distance between her and this face opposite her seemed too vast to traverse. Perhaps she should give up the whole affair and make a quick, clean break. But Lotte was afraid of making a break. Beyond it was a gaping void, containing nothing worth a moment’s interest. Lotte was afraid of looking into this void. And so she wanted to try again, with all the means at her disposal. Gurdweill’s marriage could not last long. Not from Thea’s side either. She would not last long with anyone, never mind someone such as Gurdweill. Besides the fact that she didn’t love him, she didn’t know him at all; she didn’t know the first thing about him. (Lotte, incidentally, derived a certain consolation from this conviction. She was confident that she herself was the only person in the world who really knew Gurdweill, and consequently, from this point of view at least, he belonged to her exclusively.) Sooner or later, things were bound to explode. Of that she had no doubt. But when and how? Whenever Lotte thought of this inevitable end, a shiver would run down her spine. For it was clear to her that these two people would not part without some dreadful catastrophe. And since Gurdweill was the weaker, he would probably be the one to suffer. Perhaps, too, because he was the one who loved. But did he really love her? — Lotte interrupted herself — how could anyone love Thea? Especially Gurdweill? It was impossible. She fixed her eyes on him, as if to find the answer in his face, but in vain. He sat and smoked, his head resting on his hands, utterly opaque.

When he felt her eyes on him, he said rather absent-mindedly, ‘You think too much, Lotte. It won’t do you any good. All this soul-searching — what does a pretty young girl like you need it for?’

Lotte was silent. After a moment she said that it was late and she had to hurry home. When she parted from him in front of her house, she said, ‘I really wanted to talk to you about something else, Gurdweill, but today I didn’t have the chance. Some other time, perhaps. When will we meet again?’

‘I can’t make any appointments, Lotte. You know how busy I am. But on Sunday afternoon I’ll be at home. If you’re free, why don’t you drop in with Dr Astel?’

‘With Dr Astel!’ thought Lotte bitterly. Was he really such a fool, this Gurdweill, or was he only pretending to be one?

And she slipped inside without another word.

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