Gurdweill went up to the window and stared out at the deserted street frozen in silence, at the dark windows of the hotel opposite, but he could not keep his back to the room. He turned around again and saw that his wife’s naked arm was already coiled around Heidelberger’s neck, and that the latter’s face was twisted in a drunken grin. He wanted to scream, to scream soundlessly, to do something to separate them — but his limbs, as in a dream, refused to obey him. He stood and watched, spellbound. He could not take his eyes off them. And in the midst of the agony that he felt at the sight, like a pip buried in a fruit, was a grain of perverse pleasure. He saw Thea planting her lips on Heidelberger’s mouth in a long kiss. Then she slipped off his lap. Gurdweill went over to the washstand, wet his handkerchief in the water jug, and passed it over his brow and the rest of his face.

Heidelberger rose heavily to his feet. ‘It must be late. I’d better be going.’

‘Why? Stay here with us. You can go to bed at once if you’re tired.’

‘But there’s no room for me here! And the Herr Doktor …’

‘The Herr Doktor will sleep on the couch, as usual.’ And in a tone of command: ‘Herr Doktor, make the bed for Herr Heidelberger! Hurry up!’

And Gurdweill obeyed. He took his bedclothes and threw them in a heap onto the couch, and made his wife’s bed while she washed her face, as she always did before going to sleep.

The guest asked Gurdweill where the lavatory was.

‘Go and show him where it is!’ said Thea, who had apparently overcome the effects of the alcohol. ‘Go on, take the lamp — no, wait, matches will do!’