“Well,” said Silbermann, then he looked away. My type, went through his head, and: she looks very charming, refreshing … He recalled days long gone when he had been somewhat of a “ladies’ man,” and without intending to, he once again observed her. I’m letting my guard down, he thought, relaxing my internal discipline. That’s a bad sign! I get mesmerized by a pretty face and let myself be cheated by idiots. Am I starting to go senile? Is she actually smiling, or am I just imagining? That would have to be determined. Now she’s turning away. And she’s right to do so. Not only am I married, but I have plenty of other worries.

He turned serious again and let out another sigh, which attracted the woman’s attention.

They always think everything is meant for them, he thought, with reproach as well as amusement. Naturally anytime a man sighs it must be because of a woman.

He looked at the clock.

What’s keeping Elfriede? I’ll try reaching Findler again, he decided.

He stood up and walked past the woman. She didn’t smile at all, which was also fine as far as he was concerned.

Inside the booth he searched through the phone book to find the number of the guesthouse where Findler had been living. A maid answered who not only did not know Findler’s new telephone number but had no idea he even existed. He asked her to check with the others, but the landlady, who might have been able to tell him, was absent, and the rest of the staff didn’t know.

With all the back-and-forth, the phone conversation lasted about ten minutes, and afterward Silbermann hurried back into the café since he still hoped his wife might have turned up, but she hadn’t.

Meanwhile the lady in green had left, a fact that he only noted in passing, but which further dampened his mood.

He had the impression that the place had emptied out, and soon the waiting became unbearable. Then he was horrified to realize that he’d left his briefcase on the chair when he went outside to phone. His absentmindedness worried him greatly, and he forgot all about the lady in green. Keeping an anxious eye on the other guests, he hurried to stash some of the money back in his suit pockets, so that at least he would avoid a total loss.

It was already eight o’clock. He ordered a meat platter and ate with good appetite. However, every time the door of the café opened, he gave a start and turned around, hopeful but also expecting another disappointment. By twenty minutes after eight he’d finished his meal and asked the waiter for the bill.