I was freezing and walked on following that track in my dreams, longing too for that doorway to an enchanted theatre, which was for madmen only. Meanwhile I had reached the Market Place, where there is never a lack of evening entertainments. At every other step were placards and posters with their various attractions, Ladies’ Orchestra, Variété , Cinema, Ball. But none of these were for me. They were for “everybody,” for those normal persons whom I saw crowding every entrance. In spite of that my sadness was a little lightened. I had had a greeting from another world, and a few dancing, coloured letters had played upon my soul and sounded its secret strings. A glimmer of the golden track had been visible once again.
I sought out the little ancient tavern where nothing had altered since my first visit to this town a good twenty-five years before. Even the landlady was the same as then and many of the patrons who sat there in those days sat there still at the same places before the same glasses. There I took refuge. True, it was only a refuge, something like the one on the stairs opposite the araucaria. Here, too, I found neither home nor