Gurdweill’s own coffee had begun to boil in the meantime, and he grabbed hold of the coffeepot and quickly transferred it to the room, where he placed it on the table. Thea was still sitting next to the stove, reading and smoking.

‘Pour the coffee. No, first open the brandy!’

Gurdweill silently obeyed. He knew that she should not be drinking coffee, let alone brandy, in her present condition, but there was nothing he could do about it. After serving her he lay down on the couch and lit his pipe.

‘Aren’t you having anything to drink, rabbit?’

‘I don’t feel like it at the moment. I’ll have something later.’

‘Everything will still turn out for the best,’ Gurdweill reflected. ‘Now with the baby coming. She’s not really bad … only a little capricious, just like all her sex. She’ll love him too when he comes.’

Gurdweill liked lying there on his back and puffing on his pipe. Especially in the middle of the night, when Thea was sleeping on the bed next to him, all his and his alone. And if, for a change, they had not quarrelled beforehand, his happiness was complete. He tried to put everything else out of his mind from an unconscious desire for self-preservation. After all, it may all have been a pack of lies and slander: there were no eyewitnesses, were there? As for his own doubts and suspicions — they could certainly not serve as the basis for anything … ‘And in the final analysis,’ he would sometimes say to himself, ‘it’s a question of temperament and she can’t be held responsible; a person’s temperament can’t be changed or restrained.’ And anyway, was she his private property? Did anyone have the right to subjugate another human being in any way whatsoever? Everyone was free to do as they wished, and nobody had the right to dominate anybody else. And what did he have to complain about? What? Especially when there was nothing definite to accuse her of … All women lusted after men. It was part of their very nature, a basic characteristic that couldn’t be changed. And if they didn’t act on their impulses — it was only because they were ugly or hypocritical, or simply because they didn’t dare. And why should Thea be an exception to the rule? At least it was better to be open and above board about it.

This train of thought always calmed Gurdweill down. Especially when Thea happened to be at home at the time, a kind of living refutation of all the suspicions and slanders.

‘All these speculations are futile, a waste of time,’ he reflected complacently. ‘The whole thing is utterly unimportant. Especially now, now …’