And thus they arrived at Myrthengasse, where Lotte lived. ‘You must come up with me, Gurdweill,’ she pleaded, ‘we’ll rest a minute, have some tea, and then go on.’

Gurdweill deliberated for a moment. He remembered, too, that he had to find someone from whom to borrow money for this evening. In the end he gave in and went up with Lotte.

There was nobody at home. Lotte peeped into the kitchen and said, ‘The maid must have gone out to buy something. She’ll be back in a minute.’

She ushered Gurdweill into the drawing room and went out to make the tea.

A moment later she came back dressed in a loose, flowery kimono, and sat down next to Gurdweill on the sofa.

The latter remarked, as if to himself: ‘It really is strange …’

‘What’s strange?’ enquired the girl.

‘Meeting by chance like that, I meant. I was in Kärntner Strasse and I intended to go home to work. And for no reason at all, I turned this way. The wrong way, in fact …’

‘Perhaps it wasn’t the wrong way at all …’ said Lotte with a meaningful smile.

Gurdweill took a cigarette from the open box on the smoking table next to the sofa, and Lotte lit a match for him. Then she went out and came back with a silver tray holding tea, a china jug of milk, rolls, and butter.

‘Do you like tea with milk? No?’

With dainty, graceful movements she spread the rolls with butter and poured the tea. They drank silently. A muffled, distant roar rose from the streets outside and underlined the stillness in the house. Weak rays of sunlight filtered through the clouds for a moment, and touched the keys of the grand piano in the corner without making a sound. Lotte lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out straight in front of her. From time to time she cast a sidelong glance at her guest, as if she were trying to guess his thoughts. Suddenly she stood up and took a step towards the middle of the room, changed her mind, and sat down on the sofa again. She gathered the folds of her robe together, as if she were feeling cold, and leaned against the back of the sofa, in a semi-reclining position.

Gurdweill asked in a voice that was slightly louder than usual: ‘And your mother, isn’t she at home in the afternoons?’

‘Sometimes she goes out to a café or to visit one of her friends. She’s a modern woman, my mother. Even more than I am. But I think you know her, don’t you?’

‘Yes. You once introduced me to her.’

Lotte sat up. She looked at Gurdweill as if she wanted to say something, but she didn’t say anything. After a minute she asked about his work. He said he was working a little.