He sipped the boiling coffee, and warmth began stealing through his limbs. But he was too exhausted to take in a word of the newspapers that the waiter offered him. He wanted one thing only: to sleep. The black coffee did not help much. His brain spun with fragments of disconnected thoughts. His head felt very heavy, too heavy to bear, and there was a sharp pain at the base of his skull, beating incessantly inwards like a hammer. Time seemed to stand still, indifferent to Gurdweill’s agony. He was sure that at least an hour must have passed since he entered the café, but this watch said otherwise. He was in despair. What was he going to do? If time went on crawling like this, he would go mad! The entire night, it seemed to him, had been easier to endure than the two hours that were still before him. And at the same time, how idiotic and pointless the whole thing was! All because of a caprice, of unreasonable spite! A wave of rage against Thea surged up in him, so much so that he could hardly breathe. If she had been here beside him, he might have done something stupid. Gurdweill was alarmed at the intensity of his anger — he had not known he was capable of it until now. She encouraged his evil instincts, thought Gurdweill bitterly, all the worse for her! He was actually trembling with helpless rage. He wanted to get up and go home immediately — come what may! But he stayed where he was. He lit a cigarette, picked up Das Tagblatt mechanically, and tried to distract himself.

The woman at the next table finished her meal. She went on casting sidelong glances at Gurdweill until it began to make him feel uncomfortable. What did she want of him? He was filled with an insane rage against all the women in the world, without a single exception. And now she was standing up. ‘She’s coming over!’ The certain intuition flashed through his mind. She took one or two steps towards the door, changed her mind, turned back, and made straight for Gurdweill’s table. He recoiled instinctively and looked at her enquiringly.

‘Please be so kind, sir, as to let me have Das Tagblatt when you’ve finished with it.’

‘I’m reading it now myself!’ said Gurdweill angrily.

‘No, no — when you’ve finished, I meant.’ And she added apologetically: ‘It’s for the advertisements, you know. Once in a while there’s something it would be a pity to miss.’

Gurdweill held out the newspaper without saying a word. ‘No, please!’ protested the woman. ‘You finish it first. I’ll wait a while.’

‘Take it, please! I don’t need it anymore.’