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Chapters (42)
  1. About the Author
  2. Title Page
  3. PART ONE
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. PART TWO
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. PART THREE
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. PART FOUR
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. PART FIVE
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35

Suddenly Johann asked, without looking at Gurdweill, ‘What’s he like? What kind of a person is he?’

‘Who?’

‘That friend of yours, Herr Perczik?’

‘He’s a writer and a journalist,’ replied Gurdweill evasively. ‘I’ve known him for several years. We run into each other occasionally in a café we both go to. To your health, Johann!’ He raised the tankard of foaming beer that the waiter placed before him. ‘To your health and domestic happiness!’

‘Your health, sir!’ grunted Johann, and he fell silent, lowering his head and staring gloomily at the table.

Gurdweill glanced at his watch. ‘And now, my dear Johann, it’s time to go home. It’s getting late.’

‘What’s the time?’

‘Half past eleven.’

‘Yes, it’s time to go,’ said Johann, and called the waiter.

‘In any event,’ he said as he stood up, ‘I’m grateful to you, Herr Gurdweill, for sparing the time. And if you see Herr Perczik, tell him from me that he’d better cut it out from now on, or he might get more than he bargained for. Let him take his own wife to the pictures and leave Mitzi alone.’

‘Yes,’ said Gurdweill, ‘I’ll tell him. And you too, Johann, would be well advised to put the whole thing behind you. Your suspicions are groundless; I’m sure of it.’ And they parted and went their respective ways.

PART THREE

PART THREE

Inside and Out

18

18

The newspaper burned quickly, with a merry flame, and the twigs did not have time to catch fire. A thick, dirty column of smoke escaped from the stove, which was made of glazed white tiles, into the semi-darkness of the room. The kneeling Gurdweill tried laboriously to fan the flames, but without success.

‘Oh, how useless you are!’ scolded Thea, pacing the room in her hat and coat, as if she were in the street. ‘You need lots of paper!’

‘I put the coal in a bit too soon and it choked the fire,’ apologised Gurdweill, who stood up to look for more paper.

Through the window a dense fall of thick snowflakes could be seen, flying about like feathers. The sight of the snow made the unheated room feel even colder.

Gurdweill looked for paper in the bedside table, at the bottom of the wardrobe, and came up with only one little piece. As if by magic, all the paper had disappeared from the room.

‘Haven’t you seen any paper, Thea? There should be a lot of old newspapers somewhere.’

‘I haven’t seen anything!’ replied Thea impatiently, still pacing to and fro. ‘Hurry up, can’t you? It’s freezing! And why don’t you light the lamp?’

‘In a minute. I want to light the fire in the stove first, to give it a chance to take. But where am I going to get paper?’