“This Klara,” he asked with a sly smile, his eyes on the ashes that fell from his cigar into the silver bowl, “she is supposed to have been a quiet and moreover an ugly child.” The doctor said nothing. The councillor moved closer to him, and spoke confidentially. “What a tale that was! Have you never heard about it?”

“But I have never spoken with anyone here.”

“Never spoken with anyone?” replied the councillor with a sardonic smile. “You could have read about it in the newspaper.”

“What?” asked the doctor anxiously.

“Well, she ran out on him.” The manufacturer emitted this shocking phrase from behind a cloud of smoke where he waited with endless composure for it to have its effect. But he seemed not to get what he wanted. He assumed a businesslike air, sat up, and began speaking in a different, more factual tone, as though offended. “Yes, well, they had married her off to Mr. Lehr, the head of the building council. You wouldn’t have known him. He was not an old fellow, about my age. Rich and very respectable, you know, very respectable. She didn’t have a penny and on top of that was not beautiful, had no real education, and so on. But the building councillor was not looking for a grande dame, just a modest housewife. But Klara, she was accepted into society fully, she enjoyed goodwill on every hand—really, people behaved as though . . . well, you know, she could easily have made a position for herself. But Klara—one day, hardly two years after the wedding, she flew the coop. Can you imagine—she disappeared! Where to? To Italy. A little pleasure trip, not alone, to be sure. During the whole previous year we hadn’t invited her to anything—as though we’d had a premonition! The building councillor, my good friend, a man of honor, a man—”

“And Klara?” interrupted the doctor, rising from his chair.

“Oh, well, yes, the wrath of heaven fell on her. The man in question—people said he was an artist, you know, not a serious type, just, well, you know. . . . So anyway, when they were back from Italy, in Munich, it was goodbye and he was gone without a trace. Now she’s stuck there with her child!”

Dr. Lassmann was pacing up and down excitedly. “In Munich?”

“Yes, in Munich,” replied the councillor and also got up. “What’s more, they say she’s having quite a miserable time.”

“What do you mean, miserable?”