He was sure she would refuse. But for some reason she consented, stipulating only that he make her a cup of coffee first. After drinking the coffee and lighting a cigarette, she called her husband and sat him on her lap.

‘You’re not really a coward at all, or are you, rabbit?’

‘A coward? I don’t know. Why?’

‘I’m just curious. Who knows, one dark night I might take it into my head to strangle you in your sleep … Ha-ha … Aren’t you afraid?’

‘I’m not afraid. You’re not capable of it. Why should you do such a thing? And even if you did strangle me, I wouldn’t care …’

Thea laughed. And as if trying it out, she put her hands around his neck and squeezed lightly.

‘Like this, for example!’ She laughed nastily and squeezed harder.

Gurdweill parted her hands. A sharp fear ran like an electric current through his body.

‘You said when I was asleep, not when I was awake.’ He gave a forced smile.

Sitting on her lap began to make him feel uncomfortable. Thea suddenly seemed alien and terrifying, and for a moment he saw her as really capable of committing the act. For some reason he remembered his old fear as a child when, at night, he had to pass the only brothel in the little town. The building stood on a small hill on the edge of the town, set apart, and a dull reddish light shone through the red curtains on its narrow windows. Soldiers would sway drunkenly in front of it, and every time the door opened to let them in or out a gust of abandoned laughter, mingled with a loud banging on the piano, would be released into the street. Gurdweill was fourteen years old then, and had no idea of the true nature of the place, but he sensed that something special and extraordinary was going on inside it. He imagined some kind of robbers’ den. That old fear of houses of prostitution had remained with him to the present day, and for some reason he remembered it now. He jumped off his wife’s lap, while she went on smoking reflectively, her eyes lowered. There was a heavy, disturbing atmosphere in the room. It seemed to Gurdweill that the light of the oil lamp had dimmed, and he raised the wick.

‘Well, do you want to go out or not?’