He did not know how long he lay there. Perhaps a moment, and perhaps an entire day — in any case, when he woke and recovered his senses, the first thing he noticed was that it was night, black and silent. Afterwards, when his hearing became sharper, he heard a faint, barely perceptible breath coming from the direction of the bed. ‘Yes,’ he said to himself in order to confirm the fact that he was awake, ‘it’s night now and Thea is sleeping.’ He lay on his back where he had fallen, with his legs dangling to the floor. They felt curiously heavy, and he could hardly move them. He overcame his exhaustion and sat up. As soon as he sat up, the thing that had happened a few moments before lashed at him in all its terror. And to prove to himself that he was not dreaming, he rose wearily to his feet, walked to the bed, and bent over it. After peering through the darkness for a moment, he made out Thea’s head quite clearly, on the side of the bed nearest the window, and next to it another head, its moustachioed face turned up to the ceiling — Franzl Heidelberger’s face. There was no room for doubt: it was all true! Gurdweill turned away in horror, took his hat and coat automatically from the stand by the door, and ran from the room.

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