Gurdweill arrived at the café fifteen minutes early. He selected an empty table in the corner opposite the door, and ordered coffee. The few customers scattered around the square, smallish room all seemed like old acquaintances and well-wishers to him, although he was seeing them for the first time in his life. He would have been delighted to shake them all by the hand and ask after the health of their families. He could not understand his former bitterness towards people like them. Weren’t they all — all of them without exception — simple and good and deserving of love?

When the waiter brought his coffee, Gurdweill asked him if the Baroness had not already been there that evening. He described her in detail — her face, figure, and clothes. It gave him a peculiar pleasure to talk about her to this stranger.

‘She’s my fiancée, you see …’ he concluded.

‘No young woman of that description has been here. She’s not one of our regulars.’

‘And could you tell me what the exact time is now?’

‘Eight o’clock.’

‘In that case she’ll be here directly. She’s supposed to come after eight. She’s very punctual …’

Gurdweill sipped the coffee and watched the door vigilantly. He smoked a cigarette, and then another one, and the Baroness did not come. It was already a quarter past eight. Perhaps it was the wrong café? — the doubt flashed through his mind. No, impossible! They had definitely arranged to meet in the Café Alserbach. He could not possibly be mistaken.

At that moment the Baroness entered the café. She walked straight up to him, as if she had known in advance that he would be sitting in precisely that corner. Gurdweill leaped up and went forward to meet her, his face radiant.

‘I’m not late am I?’ The Baroness smiled and held out her hand.

‘Yes, you are late. For I’ve been waiting since yesterday …’

‘But not here for all that time, I hope. That would have been rather boring.’

She sat on the upholstered seat against the wall, took a packet of cigarettes out of her bag, lit one for herself, and offered one to Gurdweill. She inhaled the smoke avidly, like an addict who had denied herself too long, and ordered black coffee.

Gurdweill was full of various things he wanted to say to her, but his tongue seemed stuck to the roof of his mouth. He sat opposite her and gazed at her tenderly, smiling weakly with pleasure and embarrassment. The Baroness finished her coffee and asked him what his first name was.

‘Ah, Rudolf,’ she said. ‘Rudolfus, Rudolfinus! My cousin’s name is Rudolf too. He’s taller than you by two heads — but he’s an ass.’

‘I — I’m very glad that he’s an a-ass …’ stammered Gurdweill with an idiotic smile.

‘What? You’re glad that my cousin’s an ass?’ The Baroness burst out laughing.