There was silence all around. Gurdweill sprang to his feet. His knuckles, which had hit the wooden frame of the bed, hurt. The scene was still vividly before him; he imagined that he could still hear the voices. His body was bathed in a cold sweat, and his heart beat fit to burst. He was certain that he had not been dreaming, that he had seen the whole scene with his eyes open, and he was afraid to sit down again. He was now standing near the bed, next to the place where previously he had been sitting, but facing the window, afraid to turn his head to the door in case he saw something unimaginably horrifying there. For some time he stood without moving. In the end he recovered and inched slowly around the bottom of the bed, which stuck out into the middle of the little room, and sat down on the other side, facing the window. ‘No!’ he said to himself. ‘This time I’ll be on my guard. I won’t let any harm come to Lotte!’ Suddenly he took fright at the sound of his own voice and fell silent. He stared straight ahead of him at the window, set into the wall like a black square, with its cheap greenish curtains drawn to the sides. That green colour clashed with the red wallpaper — the trivial idea came into his head — he really couldn’t stand that shade of green … And he lay down absent-mindedly on top of the quilt, fully dressed and without taking off his shoes.