‘What a lucky coincidence!’ he cried in affected happiness, and kissed Thea on her hand. ‘Something told me this would happen. I had some business nearby, and afterwards I wondered whether to take a cab, but nothing came past and I decided to take a tram. And now I see that I have no reason for regret! I haven’t yet had the honour, young man —’ He turned to Ulrich.

The latter introduced himself.

‘And so, Herr Ulrich,’ Dr Kreindel continued, ‘a friend of Herr Gurdwein’s, presumably?’ He gave Thea a sidelong glance. ‘And presumably a writer too, eh? Have I guessed right? Obviously!’ he confirmed to himself. ‘What else? And the gnädige Frau, well, I trust?’

‘Very well, Herr Doktor,’ said Thea with a smile.

Dr Kreindel smiled too, exposing his gold teeth. ‘Delighted to hear it, gnädige Frau! As long as you’ve got your health and your appetite, hee-hee …’

‘Him of all people!’ Gurdweill thought with suppressed rage. ‘On my one holiday I have to meet him too!’

‘And Herr Ulrich,’ Dr Kreindel turned to Ulrich, ‘does he also write fiction like our friend Herr Gurdweill, or is it philosophy, perhaps, if I may be permitted to enquire?’

‘Neither the one nor the other,’ Ulrich hastened to reply, ‘quite the contrary!’

‘And what is quite the contrary, if I may ask?’

‘The contrary is that I don’t write at all. Except for letters, and that too very seldom.’

‘In that case, you’re not a writer at all, by your own account! What a pity. So my eyes deceived me! And I was sure that any friend of Herr Gurdweill’s had to be — in the words of Morike — a soul that finds its mate, et cetera … And what is your profession, sir, permit me to ask, since I have already guessed wrong once …’

‘I,’ said Ulrich, ‘am a chicken-plucker by profession.’

‘Ha-ha-ha!’ Dr Kreindel laughed heartily. ‘How could I have missed it? Excellent, excellent! You really look like a — what did you say — chicken-plucker … When I first set eyes on you I couldn’t make up my mind between a chicken-plucker and a philosophical, writer and I chose the second — what a mistake, hee-hee-hee! And tell me, is your profession profitable?’

‘Very!’

‘That’s the main thing, my friend. What does Schiller say: A man’s honour is his work, since … and so on. What a shame that I have no time to spare. Here’s my tram coming. But it was a great pleasure, a true intellectual pleasure … I hope we’ll meet again. We must have a long talk, my friend. Goodbye!’

He shook hands hastily and jumped onto the tram, which was already moving. As it receded he waved and flashed his gold teeth.

‘What a character!’ said Ulrich. ‘I’ll have to get to the bottom of him one day.’