It was about half past ten. The noise in the streets was already growing weaker, as if there were holes gaping in it. The asphalt stretched out before them, swelling and gleaming with a nocturnal glitter. The passers-by were reflected in it as in a distorting mirror, squat and dwarf-like or exaggeratedly long and thin. Rays of an orange-coloured light issued from the luxurious cafés, a glaring, arrogant light, so bright that when you entered it your eyes shrank and blinked momentarily in pain. The revolving doors disgorged people from one side and swallowed them from the other, like some strange machine. In their garish uniforms the doormen bowed ceremoniously, making sweeping gestures with their arms as if they were opening great doors in the air. Fragments of jazz, foxtrots, and tangos came reeling from all directions, flying around you like invisible bats and leaving you slightly stunned, your arms and legs throbbing in time to the tunes. In the middle of all this the solitary policemen idly patrolling the street looked superfluous, pitiful, and forlorn.

With small steps they walked down the middle of the street: Dr Astel and Lotte at the head; and behind them, at a distance of ten paces or so, Gurdweill, Thea, and Ulrich. Thea chatted to Ulrich while Gurdweill was sunk in thought. His thoughts ran along these lines:

‘People rush to places of amusement and dancing and bawdiness not always out of any real appetite for pleasure, but more often in the need to escape. Most of these people are unhappy, sick of their lives, unable to stand themselves … Burdened by daily cares, boredom, or simply fear, an obscure fear of which they are not even aware — a fear that unconsciously robs them of their peace of mind, drives them relentlessly on, and prevents them from looking directly and courageously at the commotion in their souls and all around them. The rootlessness grew even worse after the war, until it sometimes seems that all these people are actually sorry they survived … Perhaps there is a need for a new religion,’ he reflected, ‘a religion capable of stopping these fleeing masses, of returning them to themselves, bringing them back to nature and healthy simplicity …’