In fact, she did not have the slightest intention of aborting the baby. She wanted it for some reason that was not clear even to herself. Not out of an excessive love of children, at any rate. She only said what she said in order to make Gurdweill miserable and see him tremble. She knew how he longed for a baby and wanted to hurt him as much as she could with the threat of an abortion. Later on, when this threat was no longer valid, she would find something else for him. It would be interesting to see how much he was prepared to suffer in silence …

Thea dressed herself with the deliberate, rhythmic movements that were so familiar and agreeable to Gurdweill. ‘An independent, forceful character,’ he thought, ‘a vitality that can almost be measured mathematically, that in her nature expresses itself explicitly, directly …’

‘Why so down in the mouth, rabbit? Get dressed and let’s go!’

Gurdweill went over to the window. Yesterday’s snow had already melted. The street was wet and slushy. Dirty, blackening lumps of snow had collected in the gutters at the sides of the pavements. Gurdweill would willingly have stayed at home. His need for rest and solitude was overpowering. He wanted to be by himself and felt unfit for human company. At his father-in-law’s house he would be obliged to talk, to be sociable — and he simply did not feel up to it.

‘Perhaps you could go alone, Thea? I don’t feel up to it. I hardly slept all night.’

But this time Thea was not prepared to do without him. ‘You have to come with me! I promised that we would go together. They’re expecting us. It’s all settled!’

And after a minute: ‘I have to go somewhere this afternoon anyway. You can come home then.’

And so Gurdweill went to wash. The cold water revived him somewhat, and his heavy, dazed mind cleared a little. He took off his shirt and washed his body too — his skinny, underdeveloped, almost hairless, boyish body, white with a gleaming whiteness. Thea was now dressed in a white silk blouse and a brown skirt. She sat at the table, smoking and staring at her husband, who was scrubbing his back with a cloth, as if she wanted to penetrate to the secrets of the soul concealed behind his white, pampered skin. Gurdweill sensed her eyes on his back and began to feel uncomfortable. He was rather ashamed of his undeveloped body, especially before his wife, whom he suspected of despising him for it. He slipped behind her and quickly put on his shirt.

As they were about to leave, Ulrich knocked on the door.

‘Ah, you’re going out!’ he cried in the doorway. ‘In that case I won’t disturb you. But if you’re on your way to a restaurant I’ll come along.’