“Are we close to Dortmund?” he asked quietly.

“You still have a long time,” Silbermann replied. “Get some sleep.”

But Lilienfeld sat up. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m so restless. I have such a strange feeling. I need a glass of brandy. I don’t think I can take being hounded like this. Normally by this time I would have already swept out my shop and rolled up the shutters. I had to let go of my journeyman assistant, the business was doing so poorly, and my apprentice never showed up before eight. There’s someone for you—completely inept!”

He looked at Silbermann. “I talk too much, don’t I?”

“Not at all,” Silbermann replied. “Keep going. It does me good to listen to you.”

“I told the boy a hundred times,” Lilienfeld continued, “not to hold the board with his hand when he’s using the plane. But no matter how often you say it, he doesn’t hear it. And as you can guess, one day the thing slipped and then the lout couldn’t work. So for a whole month all he did was stand around. Apart from that he was a good kid! I wonder if he’s found a new apprenticeship. I still have to send him his certificate. When I told him I was leaving, he wanted to come with me. He’s Jewish, too, you see … I’m so anxious. I dreamed about the war for the first time in years. I was just hanging there, stuck in the barbed wire and freezing. That’s a feeling, let me tell you!”

“I turned off the heat earlier,” Silbermann explained. “You know, I’ve been thinking about the war too for the past few days. It’s no wonder.”

“Do you think we should move to second class?” Lilienfeld asked. “That might be safer.”

“And when the conductor comes and sees you have a ticket for first class, that will really look fishy!”

“But it’s always less nerve-racking to be around a lot of people. At least for me. Do you think there are Gestapo officers on the train?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe we should get off and take third-class seats on the next train?”

“What do you think that will do? You won’t be any safer there. You might get involved in a conversation that I wouldn’t wish for you, and besides…”

“… and besides, I chose to pay for first class, too, you were going to say,” Lilienfeld interrupted, finishing Silbermann’s sentence. “Except I’ve never traveled first class in my life. If only I’d been able to go on traveling third class in peace for the rest of my days!” He looked around admiringly at the compartment. “All very finely done,” he concluded. “But it’s plenty expensive! Probably nothing new for you, am I right?”

“I usually travel second class,” said Silbermann. But listening to Lilienfeld about traveling third class made him wonder exactly why he had done so all those years. Then he added, almost apologetically, “Also on account of my business associates.” He wrinkled his forehead, surprised at his own explanation.