When he reached the Schottenring it occurred to him to call on the shoemaker Vrubiczek, who lived nearby and whom he had not visited for some weeks now. A peculiar friendship existed between these two men, who had nothing in common as far as age, education, or opinions were concerned. Two years ago Gurdweill, who had been living in the neighbourhood, had taken him a pair of shoes to mend and had entered into conversation with him. And ever since then he had visited him regularly, even after moving out of the neighbourhood.

When he entered Vrubiczek jumped up happily to welcome him. ‘So you’ve turned up again, Herr Gurdweill! I was about to inform the lost-property office about you! Where have you been all this time?’

Gurdweill sat down on the square stool, on the hollow seat of greasy black leather, which the shoemaker cleared of the shabby shoes stiff with dry mud and the dirty lasts full of nail holes. Vrubiczek took up the shoe lying on his lap and began to attach the heel.

‘I wanted to come sooner, but I never had a chance,’ said Gurdweill. ‘How have you been keeping, Herr Vrubiczek? And your old lady?’

‘Well, well!’ replied the shoemaker contentedly. ‘Couldn’t be better. When your shoes fit, your head doesn’t ache, as it says in the proverb. Yes, my Johann was married this very Sunday — and what more could you want, Herr Gurdweill? The old are buried and the young are married, and that’s the way of the world. My old lady’s been asking about you: “What’s become of Herr Gurdweill? Why don’t we ever see him anymore?” And I say to her: “If he doesn’t come, he’s got his reasons. You can be sure of that. Who knows, maybe he’s taken a wife who keeps him at home, or maybe his business is prospering and he’s hard at work.”’

‘My business isn’t prospering,’ said Gurdweill with a slight smile, ‘but I am indeed about to take a wife.’

‘Is that so? Then allow me to congratulate you!’ Vrubiczek stuck out a rough hand. ‘You’re like a son to me, Herr Gurdweill, a real son! I said the same thing to my old lady only last week. I’m very glad to hear it! A bachelor is like an odd shoe, I always say: however expensive it is, it’s fit for nothing! And yourself nearly thirty!’

After a moment he went on. ‘What do you say, Herr Gurdweill, with all your book learning? Is there any other purpose to life? Tell me: did you learn anything better from reading all those books? I’ve been sitting here on my stool and thinking for these forty years, and what I say is: get married, have children, and enjoy life as much as it’s given to a man to enjoy it!’