After working for about two hours, he stood up feeling pleased with himself. There were still six hours to go until the meeting, he couldn’t write anymore, and he had no idea of how to fill in the time. It occurred to him to empty the ink from one inkpot into another: a completely superfluous labour. His hands were stained with ink, and he went to scrub them clean. Then he cut the sheets of paper into short pages and arranged them in exaggeratedly neat piles. He took care not to let any page stick out and made sure that the edges were as even as the pages in a bound book. All this took up no more than twenty minutes. He remembered that his old manuscripts needed tidying up too. He had been meaning to do this for some time, but he had never got around to it. He took a bundle wrapped in crumpled, dusty brown paper out of the cupboard, and undid the string. But after rummaging through the parcel for a few minutes, he grew bored and tied it up again and put it back in the cupboard. He glanced at his watch: a quarter past two. Would he find Dr Astel at home now? Sometimes he was at home at this hour. And if not — it would be a walk anyway. Gurdweill set off and walked to Karlsgasse, a fifty-minute walk in the mild air under the cloudy sky, where he did not find Dr Astel at home. But he did not regret it in the least. Now he would go home and try to work a little more, and in the meantime the day would pass. He crossed the Opernring and for some reason turned left, in the direction of Herrengasse, instead of going down Kärntner Strasse, which was the shortest way home. In front of the entrance to the Hofburg he bumped into Lotte Bondheim, who was plainly delighted to see him and invited him to accompany her home, if he was free. She had to pick something up there, and afterwards they could go for a walk, or sit in a café, whatever he liked. She would take an umbrella too, because she was sure it was going to rain. Spring days were always liable to turn rainy. And especially today, with the clouds hanging right over their heads. And she had a new hat on too — he hadn’t even noticed, which was not nice of him at all! He, Gurdweill, never gave her a second glance. She was sure that he didn’t even know what colour her eyes were! What, he did know? It must be a coincidence. Pure chance! And what about her hat? Did it suit her? Yes? She was glad to hear it. His opinion meant a lot to her. He was the only man she knew who understood anything about feminine attire. Blue always suited her, pale blue. She had woken up this morning in a somewhat melancholy mood, probably because of the weather. Cloudy days always had a bad effect on her. And the idea came into her head to buy a new hat! That was always a distraction. Going to the shops, trying the hats on, choosing. And now she felt better. So, did he really like the hat? He did! And she would do as he said and pull the brim down a little to the left. But Gurdweill seemed a little absent-minded today: was anything the matter? No, no — she had noticed at once. She knew she was right. Well, if it was a secret, she wouldn’t press him, naturally. What a pity that he hadn’t come for tea the day before yesterday! But he surely wouldn’t refuse her now! She was really glad she had met him. She had peeped into the café earlier on, thinking she might find Dr Astel there. Had Gurdweill seen him today? No?