‘No, thank you!’ Gurdweill rejected the offer. ‘You can smoke that one yourself! Tell the waiter to bring some good ones.’

He had no alternative. The veal and the beer suddenly lost their flavour. ‘It’s always the same,’ reflected Perczik bitterly, ‘when you sit at the same table with these scroungers. You should avoid them like the plague!’

The waiter opened a new pack. ‘Will ten Khedives be satisfactory?’

‘No, no!’ Perczik waved them away, as horrified as if he were being asked to mount the gallows. ‘Haven’t you got any Memphis? I prefer Memphis … a mild, pleasant taste. Give me three.’

‘And what about me?’ said Ulrich with a laugh. ‘I smoke too, you know!’

‘Since when do you smoke? You never used to.’

‘I do now.’

‘In that case, of course, with pleasure …’

‘A light, Perczik!’ Gurdweill commanded.

‘I haven’t got any matches,’ lied Perczik.

Ulrich lit a match and gave Gurdweill a light.

‘Memphis!’ teased Gurdweill. ‘Who smokes Memphis today? It’s time you started smoking Khedives, Perczik! A hundred dollars a month.’

‘What hundred dollars a month?’ Perczik defended himself. ‘Who earns a hundred dollars a month? I’m happy if I earn thirty! It’s all a big lie … Do you think it’s so easy to earn a hundred dollars a month?’

‘Nevertheless, you’ll lend me two schillings,’ said Gurdweill with a smile, looking him straight in the eye. He knew that it was a lost cause, but he wanted to see Perczik squirm.

‘Two schillings?’ Perczik stopped eating as if he had been struck by lightning. ‘I haven’t got it, I swear to you, I haven’t got it! I’ve hardly got enough to pay the waiter. I haven’t even got the money to give my wife for housekeeping tomorrow. I didn’t make it to the bank in time today; I’ll have to run and change my last five dollars first thing tomorrow morning.’

‘In that case, you can give me one schilling,’ persisted Gurdweill.

Perczik pushed his plate away, leaving his meat unfinished, and gulped down a glass full of beer.

‘They don’t even let you eat in peace,’ he reflected furiously. He put his hand into his trouser pocket, removed the large bills from his wallet, and pulled out the wallet with what was left in it.

‘Bring me the bill, Johann!’ he called crossly.

After paying his bill there was little more than a schilling left. ‘This is all my money!’ He showed Gurdweill.

‘Fine. Lend me the schilling and keep the change for yourself. In any case, you won’t be able to do anything else with it.’