It was midday. The sun shone down on the city, which was fresh and sparkling from the night-long shower. The shops and businesses began disgorging crowds of people, who invaded the pavements and packed the trams. Gurdweill, who had not noticed that he had begun to retrace his footsteps a few moments before and was already walking down Rotenturmstrasse, now found himself next to St Stephen’s Cathedral. The cathedral clock struck once, with a deep, hollow sound. He took out his watch and set it to the clock: a quarter past twelve. Thea would be leaving her office now for lunch, it occurred to him, and he might bump into her. He knew that she hated surprise meetings, but nevertheless, with a rather hesitant heart, he quickened his step. When he reached the turning into Johannesgasse, he glanced furtively down the street, out of the corner of his eye and without stopping. He walked on for about twenty paces, turned on his heel and passed Johannesgasse again, this time without turning his head, and then he walked back again and passed it for the third time. He stopped a little way off and scanned the crowds milling to and fro. No, Thea was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she had left a few minutes before. He continued slowly towards the Ring, turning to look back from time to time, and decided that he might as well stroll over to visit Dr Astel, who lived not far off. He passed a shop selling various steel instruments, and stopped to look at the shaving equipment in the window. Gurdweill had a weakness for shaving instruments, especially good razors. He already had three razors at home, but he still wasn’t satisfied. As soon as he had a bit of money, he had made up his mind to buy himself a real English razor and a decent razor-strop. And in the meantime, he always stopped outside the display windows of shops of this kind to choose and deliberate: he couldn’t make up his mind whether to buy a razor with an ivory handle for twenty schillings, or one with a plain black handle, which cost as much as the first, but whose blade was probably better. He would gladly have bought all the razors and shaving accessories in the window, and in other shop windows too, if only he had the money. As he stood there deliberating, he remembered that he had to take one of his blunt razors to be sharpened, and at the same moment he heard a familiar voice. He turned his head and saw Thea standing behind him, with a tall man. Gurdweill felt a stab as if someone had stuck a needle into him. But he recovered immediately and scolded himself: ‘What! Have you gone mad? She’s allowed to talk to someone! Or maybe even that’s a sin, you idiot!’ Nevertheless, he was eager to know who her escort was — not out of any desire to spy on her, God forbid, no one could accuse him of that, but simply out of curiosity. Perhaps the man was an acquaintance of his, Gurdweill’s, too. He would not try to hide; he could make it look as if they had met purely by chance. All this flashed through his mind with the speed of lightning, and he began pushing his way through the crowds of people on the pavement, almost knocking over an old woman, who cursed him roundly, in his haste to reach the kerb. He crossed the street without looking round and began running along next to the kerb, keeping an eye on the opposite pavement to make sure they did not disappear from view. After he had run two hundred yards or so, Thea and her escort were left far behind, and he recrossed the road and began walking towards them. He walked slowly, as if he were enjoying a stroll. But his heart was pounding and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, because of his run or his excitement or a combination of both. From a distance he saw the man walking next to Thea, a well-dressed, pleasant-looking stranger in his prime. He greeted them with a deep bow and was about to continue on his way when Thea stopped him.