After a while he decided to walk from one end of the fence to the other twenty times with medium-sized steps — this would probably take about twenty minutes, and by then he would be able to go inside. He began pacing and counting with his eyes lowered and his coat flapping in the wind. A rag-and-bone man, with a bundle wrapped in a bottle-green shawl hanging over his shoulder, zigzagged down the middle of the road, raising his eyes to the windows and calling ‘Rags and bones!’ in a loud, hoarse voice. A baker’s boy walked past with a basket full of rolls, while a little black dog trotted frantically behind him at an angle that made him look as if he were running sideways. The little dog stopped in front of Gurdweill, turned to look behind him for a moment, and then trotted off to catch up with his master. A poor, bent woman emerged from a side alley, where the hospital fence made a sharp right-angle, and she shuffled hesitantly towards Gurdweill, waiting until he put his hand in his pocket before approaching him. Then she took the coin timidly from his hand and turned back into the alley.

Gurdweill was no longer counting — he had forgotten all about it. He must have paced the length of the fence thirty times by now, and he took out his watch and looked at it. It was four minutes to ten.

A different nurse, one he had not seen yesterday, assured him that the baby’s condition had improved and said that she hoped he would be allowed to go home in two or three days’ time. It was impossible to see him now, outside visiting hours. But where was the mother? The baby had to be fed! All Gurdweill’s pleas to be allowed to see him were in vain. He went into the corridor and waited there for a while. Suddenly he saw the nurse from yesterday, and he went up to her and begged her to let him take a peek at the baby. The nurse took pity on him and led him into a room where about twenty cots were standing. As he followed in her footsteps, his heart beat loudly and his stomach contracted in a kind of spasm. The baby was asleep, his face pale but tranquil, and his hand, which was clenched into a tiny fist, was sticking out of the blanket next to his mouth. Suddenly the scene from his dream rose before Gurdweill’s eyes, and he felt faint with terror. His knees gave way beneath him, and he gripped the back of the chair next to him.

‘As you see,’ said the nurse, ‘he’s sleeping quietly. Last night he had a bad time, but he’s better now. His fever has gone down too.’