Gurdweill leaned against the wall to stop himself from falling. Ulrich, who was standing in front of him with his head bowed, was suddenly transformed into a dark, shapeless clod; he grew huge, immense, blotting out the daylight. All at once it was black as night. The darkness lasted — who could tell how long it lasted! When daylight returned, Ulrich was still standing with his head bowed, as before. And only now did something hit Gurdweill in the face like a bullet from a gun. The heart was torn from his body and fell into a deep pit, leaving him an empty husk. He saw Lotte lying on her back with her eyes on the ceiling. She was lying right there, between him and Ulrich, and they could not make her get up. People going in and out stole curious glances at the two men standing motionless in the vestibule. Nothing made any difference, since Lotte did not want to get up. Gurdweill wanted to scream, but his voice was inaudible. Later, Ulrich woke up, seized him by the arm, and dragged him into the street. Shoulder to shoulder they walked, lost and silent, for half an hour, an hour, an hour and a half. The darkness advancing along the streets was forced to submit to the lamps, which went on just in time. Afterwards Gurdweill found himself alone in one of the ancient winding alleys in the city centre. Ulrich was no longer with him. And Gurdweill remembered that Ulrich had informed him on parting that she would be buried tomorrow, at ten o’clock in the morning, in the Central Cemetery. It was very strange. Who on earth were they going to bury? That Ulrich sometimes came out with the most outlandish ideas! Ah, now he had no one! — the dreadful certainty struck him like a lightning bolt. He was alone, all alone in the world! He stood still and looked fearfully around him. The alley was ill lit and there were no shops in it. It was a short, deserted side alley with very old buildings, into which people seldom strayed. Suddenly alarmed by the desolation, Gurdweill began to hurry, almost to run, to the end of the alley, and turned into another, just as desolate, where he slowed down, as if the danger had passed. About twenty paces ahead of him, there was a man with an open umbrella. So it was raining! Gurdweill lifted his eyes to the misty sky, and a few drops fell onto his upturned face, giving him a rather pleasant feeling. On a sign shrouded in darkness he made out the letter ‘M’ at the beginning of a name engraved in big gold letters. And suddenly the picture of a brightly lit room flashed before his eyes, with a big mirror hanging on the wall, and in it, at the side, a black silhouette. He heard Lotte’s voice: ‘All is lost! He’s staying with her!’ … But it simply wasn’t true … He couldn’t stay with her! To Lotte he could bare his heart: he hated her! He was ready to leave right away! Italy — what a wonderful idea! There was no need to make any preparations! As long as she stopped lying there like that with her eyes fixed on the ceiling! Because he simply couldn’t bear it …