Gurdweill stopped eating and looked at her in surprise. He didn’t know whether she was speaking seriously or making fun of him. He waited for a moment, and since his wife said no more he tried cautiously to object.

‘But why, my dear? They’re beautiful just as they are. Really beautiful —’

‘Nonsense, rabbit, you don’t understand the first thing about it!’ Thea interrupted him. ‘If I tell you they’re too big, you can take it from me that I know what I’m talking about. It’s not a difficult operation; there’s no danger involved. I’ve already spoken to Dozent Schramek — you know him yourself! He said it’s a very easy operation, child’s play …’

And she started describing the operation to him in great detail, with such relish that she even forgot her coffee and bread and butter. It was obvious that imagining the operation gave her particular pleasure. But Gurdweill was appalled. He could not bear such scenes, either in reality or imagination. ‘How can a woman want to have operations all the time?’ he thought. ‘A couple of weeks ago it was an operation on her nose, also quite unnecessary, and now it’s an operation on her breasts!’

‘But we haven’t got the money for it,’ he remarked.

‘There’s no need,’ replied his wife, with her mouth full, ‘at any rate, not right away. Dozent Schramek has a sanatorium, as you know; he’s my friend and he’ll do it for nothing. And even if we have to pay — we can do it later on, one day when we’ve got the money.’

Gurdweill was silent, since nothing he said would have made any difference. Thea wanted to have the operation at the end of the week, and it was plain to him that she would get her way. He was sorry about her breasts, which he liked the way they were, and afraid of the risks inherent in any operation. He was unable to finish drinking his coffee. He sat playing with his knife for a while, then filled his pipe and lit it. In the meantime Thea finished her breakfast.

‘Go and roll me a cigarette, rabbit,’ she said as she stood up. ‘And clear the table while you’re at it!’