Lotte was saying something in a soft, gentle voice. Perhaps she had been speaking for some time, but her words had to break through several barriers in order to penetrate his consciousness.

Eventually he heard her say: ‘… Things can’t go on like this. It’s impossible. I can’t stand by and watch another woman, who’s not worth your little finger, destroy you. I kept thinking that you would come of your own accord … but you never came. Even though your place was here, you didn’t understand and you never came. Now things have to be decided, one way or the other. I haven’t got the strength to wait anymore.’

She paused for a moment. A delicate spiral of bluish smoke rose from the burning cigarette lying in the ashtray. Then she burst out, as if to herself: ‘Two years! How much a person can suffer in two years! So many days, nights, hours, minutes! Every minute an abyss of misery! It’s too much to bear. Even a stone wears away in the end. I can’t go on any longer. There’s only one way out: will you leave her and go with me to some other country? We could leave in three or four days. There’s no need for big preparations. We’ll have a little money too. Papa will give me some. I’ve thought it all out. He’ll give me money to go to Italy. He loves me very much, and he thinks that I’m sick and the southern sunshine will do me good. We’ll go and stay in some little town on the Italian or French Riviera. And then we’ll see. Perhaps later on you’ll be able to divorce her. And if not, I don’t care. We don’t need permission from anyone. The main thing is that we love each other. And there’s nothing to keep us in one place either. We can stay somewhere for a few months and then move on somewhere else. You’ll be able to work in peace and forget everything she did to you.’

Lotte fell silent. Her eyes were fixed on Gurdweill, awaiting his reply. But he sat with his head bowed and said nothing. Her words had pierced his heart with an electric spark of hope: shimmering scenes of lands of sun and sea had appeared before his eyes, different people, a new life, a life with Lotte, darling Lotte, who was like no one else in the world, who was as dear to him as his own soul. Everything was so clear, so simple, so wonderful. But it all died away again in the twinkling of an eye.

‘Well, Rudolf? You must answer me. I want a definite reply.’

With an effort Gurdweill blurted out: ‘I … What can I say to you? You are dearer to me than anything in the world … But I can’t … I’ll never be able to …’