Lilienfeld tore a page from his notebook and wrote out the name and address in large, clumsy letters. He genuinely seemed to have come to trust Silbermann. In any case, he handed Silbermann the paper even though he hadn’t received any money for providing it.

“Hermann Dinkelberg, Bismarckstraße 23,” Silbermann read in a low voice. “Is that enough?” he asked. “Or do I have to refer to someone?”

“That isn’t necessary. Just tell him that you want to leave the country, and if he asks how much money you have, say: two hundred marks. You can give that to him right away, because he’ll get you over the border!”

Silbermann stuck the note in his pocketbook and handed Lilienfeld three hundred-mark bills. “You might need a little extra after all,” he said. “If you like you can give me back the hundred marks at some later date.”

“No, no.” The cabinetmaker declined. “All I need is two hundred marks exactly! What am I supposed to do with the rest? Tomorrow afternoon I’m leaving Germany. Then I won’t be able to get rid of the money and that will be my downfall. I know you mean well, that’s very generous, and I thank you, but please just keep it!”

He handed the extra hundred marks back to Silbermann.

“That’s never happened to me before in my life,” said Silbermann, shaking his head.

“Me neither! But now let’s really try to get some sleep. Tomorrow I have a pretty strenuous hike ahead of me. I’m just happy that I met you. It looks like there really is such a thing as a silver lining.”

“Only because the cloud is as dark as it is,” said Silbermann pessimistically.

“You shouldn’t despair,” Lilienfeld replied, gently running his hand over his billfold. “You see how things are going with me…”

“You’re also in an enviable position! You can move about freely. But I have to haul my money wherever I go. Under the circumstances, that’s a real millstone around my neck.”

“Just leave it in Germany.”

“And what am I to live off abroad?”

“You’ll have to work!”

“I’ve worked my entire life, my friend. I’m a merchant, and a merchant has to have capital. These days a tradesman is a lot better off.”

“Then you just have to start all over again once you’re there.”

“That’s easy to say. I’m no longer young, and I also have my wife and son to take care of!”

“You’re right,” sighed Lilienfeld, almost with a note of contentment, “it’s a bad situation…”

Silbermann realized he wasn’t going to fall asleep again so soon. He pulled aside the window curtain and for a while looked out at the pale dawn, gazing at the landscape, the bare fields, small forests, isolated houses, the monotonous autumn tableau of the flat countryside. He stretched a bit, then turned out the light since it was already bright enough.