His body drawn to the ground as if labouring under a wearisome burden, his head sunk to his chest, as heavy as lead, he made his way along Praterstrasse. Tomorrow, he thought with relief, if he failed to obtain a loan, he would go to the almshouse. There he would find a bed, at least. He had been told that it wasn’t at all bad there. This hope for the morrow gave him a certain courage, and his steps quickened of their own accord.

When he reached the Tegetthoff monument he turned left without thinking, out of force of habit, crossed Heinestrasse, and soon found himself in Kleine Stadtgutgasse. The street was empty and dimly lit. It seemed as strange to Gurdweill as if he were seeing it for the first time in his life. The rows of windows on either side were menacing in their darkness. It was impossible to imagine that behind these blind windows life still stirred dully. The street was dead. But suddenly the despairing wail of an invisible cat broke out, and Gurdweill shuddered in horror. The cat fell silent and immediately gave vent to a second wail, which sounded particularly heart-rending in the desolation of the surrounding silence. Standing opposite his house, in the middle of the street, Gurdweill stared up at the third-floor windows. The two middle ones — the others, on the left, belonged to the landlady. Now Thea was sleeping in the bed, and Gurdweill on the couch … But what nonsense! He was standing here, in the street! Standing there in the dead of night in front of the windows of his own room, Gurdweill had the eerie feeling that he was confronting his own divided self, one half of which was up there on the couch and the other down here … All at once the certain knowledge came to him that in a moment Thea would wake up, open the window, and ask him to come up to bed. He waited in suspense. For a minute he even imagined that he could discern a faint movement inside, a definite movement … But no! The cat let out another wail, the window did not open, and Gurdweill dropped his eyes. Suddenly he was seized with fear: if a policeman happened to pass this way and see him standing still in the middle of the street, he would surely think him a burglar or something of the kind. Disappointed, he began walking slowly away, when a sudden apprehension that some neighbour of his acquaintance might come upon him by surprise, and tell the whole street of his disgrace, made him quicken his footsteps to a run.