The city was suddenly empty and desolate. There was nothing in it to which he could momentarily attach his thoughts. A gnawing emptiness, as if he had been fasting for days on end, riled his stomach. Instead of taking another tram, he walked slowly along the Ring, putting his feet down with a peculiar caution, as if he were in danger of falling into some hidden hole. A sharp cold pricked the tips of his fingers, like needles. A few, isolated snowflakes drifted aimlessly through the air, at about the height of a man. An enigmatic smile froze on Gurdweill’s lips. If it transpired that he was guilty of something, and if anyone accused him — but how could anyone blame him? Wasn’t he ready to go to Italy? And then again, who could prove that he was afraid of … of Thea? He had never been afraid of her, and he certainly wasn’t afraid of her now! No, the only difficulty was because of Lotte, because she was dead. This last word, which had stolen up on him and taken him, as it were, by surprise, suddenly crashed like a thunderbolt into his mind, and the pain was so terrible that he thought he would go mad. He began to run, with someone inside him shouting at the top of his voice: ‘Dead, dead, dead!’ He saw nothing in front of him; he took no notice of the passers-by who stopped to look at the strange man running with his open coat flapping at his sides; he did not feel it when he bumped into someone and was pushed violently aside, so that he almost fell to the ground — he saw and felt nothing but Lotte, his dearly beloved Lotte, who had been lying on the sofa a little while ago and who was now dead, dead and gone forever! He had seen her being buried with his own eyes. He had seen it, and so had Ulrich and Dr Astel. And other people too! They could all bear witness! And she had died because he — of this, too, there could be no doubt — because he had refused to go with her to Italy! And now no one could bring her back! Because he had seen her being buried with his own eyes, in the Central Cemetery, not far from Schramek!