Dr Astel and Ulrich, too, came up to hold him back. But their attempts only increased his rage. He struggled to free himself from his friends, flushed and shouting: ‘I’m not drunk, I tell you! I’m not drunk at all! How dare they make obscene signs at a decent girl in the company of her friends? What unheard-of cheek!’ In obedience to a gesture from Thea, the two men sat down again with contemptuous smiles.

Gurdweill, too, was led back to his seat. He sat shooting annihilating looks at his enemies, who were drinking their wine and laughing and joking as if nothing had happened. His anger had not yet subsided. It seethed inside him like a dense poison without finding an outlet. He bitterly regretted not having had the chance to hit them, the scoundrels, and teach them some manners. He poured himself a glassful of wine and drank it down in one gulp.

‘What devil got into you all of a sudden, Gurdweill?’ said Dr Astel placatingly. He hated scenes. ‘You surprised me, I must say. You really surprised me! I would never have thought you capable of it.’

Lotte kept repeating in a whisper, as if talking to herself: ‘It’s not worth it, you’ll see … You’ll regret it …’

‘How dare they stare like that! What rudeness! I’m not drunk, but you’re a couple of cowards — yes, cowards!’

‘What, aren’t they allowed to look in this direction? You can’t stop them from looking!’ said Thea.

‘Looking? You call that looking? Civilised people don’t look at a decent girl like that!’