He began rolling himself a cigarette with his callused fingers, while his wife shuffled into the kitchen, dragging her feet like a much older woman. In the doorway she paused and, turning to face them, pronounced: ‘All I’m saying is that you should never trust doctors. If you get sick, wait for it to get better of its own accord. There are plenty of good old home remedies. I’m not saying anything against them; that’s something else! But doctors — I would never let anyone dear to me anywhere near them!’

And she left the room.

‘Women,’ said Vrubiczek tolerantly. ‘The older they get, the weaker their brains become.’ He offered Gurdweill a tin of tobacco and cigarette papers. ‘So the operation’s safely over?’

‘Yes, it’s over.’

‘And when is she coming home?’

‘In another week or ten days, I think.’

‘That’s good,’ said the shoemaker. ‘I’m glad to hear it!’

Gurdweill didn’t know what was so good about it, and at that moment he didn’t particularly care. The meal he had just eaten made him feel pleasantly tired and heavy. And the wind beating incessantly against a rattling windowpane made the warm, bright house and its kindly, simple occupants seem doubly sweet. When the wind subsided for a moment, the quiet hiss of the gas light immediately made itself heard. And from the kitchen, too, came a mysterious murmuring sound.

The events of the day lost some of their sharpness. Everything seemed simpler, easier. Perhaps there was no cause for despair after all. How good it would be if Thea were sitting here beside him, kind and contented, both of them together sheltered from the chaos of life …

Frau Vrubiczek brought the coffee.

‘And how’s Johann?’ Gurdweill enquired. ‘I haven’t seen him for ages.’

‘No complaints,’ replied Vrubiczek. ‘He’s a good lad; he works hard and enjoys life with his young wife. What else can you ask for? He doesn’t come and see us so often now, of course. A young woman wants her husband to spend his time with her — and quite right too. When we were a young couple ourselves, we were jealous of every minute too, weren’t we, Julia?’ Vrubiczek stroked his wife’s cheek affectionately in memory of those good old days.

‘Here’s a man who can be said to be happy!’ Gurdweill reflected with a certain satisfaction.